#I mean he’s read the same journal dean has. he knows what John thought.

[quietwingsinthesky]

still thinking about aro!dean btw. thinking about that passage in john’s journal where he laments that at dean’s age, he had a wife and kids while dean is a hunter. and like. do you think john ever told him that? i imagine he did, set the scene, he’s drunk and dean has been pulling his boots off before bed since he was seven years old and now he’s in his twenties, still that boy taking care of his father, and john is apologizing for once. for how dean didn’t get the chance for what he had (except even now, all this mourning is framed around dean, but it’s not about dean, it’s about john, what he lost and can’t get back) and dean is listening to his father tell him he should’ve had a wife, should’ve had kids, should’ve had a house and the whole nine yards.

because more than the rest of the world telling dean what he should have, should want, his father crying to him that he ruined it all is gonna dig it’s claws into his head the most.

maybe john doesn’t even remember it in the morning. dean does.

so now that hangs over him, too. every feeling of ‘this isn’t quite right, isn’t what I’m comfortable with’ has to contend with the knowledge that his dad felt guilt he couldn’t have it. (compound that with sam’s request at the end of s5, and of course he ends up on lisa’s doorstep. it’s what they thought he wanted, so they told him to take it once he was free, but in doing so, culled his freedom down to a backyard and a shared bed with someone he barely knows and tries to love the way he should.)

and most importantly of all, obviously, I’m thinking about dean getting older. about how the weight of his father never really falls off, but he gets better at carrying it. and he can say to himself, he’s long past the point where he should’ve gotten all that stuff in order anyway. might as well work with what he’s got. (while what he’s got makes him happier than the life john imagined he stole ever could have.) new freedom that comes with aging out of expectation, in a way. a space to build his own life. and so one day, when dean the age john was when he wrote about it in his journal, he’s doesn’t feel like he missed out on anything at all.

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

helloooooooo cass, happy wincest wednesday! supernatural canon is incredibly undecided on this matter, so i want to know YOUR headcanons for what language(s) sam and dean have studied! do you think they have overlap anywhere, or would they divide and conquer? 🤔 i think about this so often, so i want to know other people's opinions too :)

Ok so I'm gonna preface this by I actually don't know much about languages in general, so I had to do research to come to a lot of these conclusions, but I don't know much about languages so I guess take all this with a grain of salt and the knowledge that I should most definitely be asleep.

So I have a couple of conclusions (and just fun possibilities) about the languages both of them would probably have ended up knowing and continued learning.

Tldr version:

I think Sam starts out fluent in being able to read Latin, Dean starts out at a "conversational" level of speaking Latin, and over time Sam grows to be just as capable as Dean at speaking Latin out loud or better while Dean remains at the same level.

I think Sam took Hebrew in college because he had to take a language to fulfill his electives and he was interested in reading original Abrahamic religious transcripts.

I think Sam picked up being able to read some Germanic language, possibly German, but possibly an older Germanic that I cannot name (I don't know how to read the language root charts, I've been staring at multiple of them and I can't figure them out, I'm so sorry...).

Long most definitely sleep deprived thought dump below.

1)So they both know Latin, but at different mastery levels. My basic conclusion for this is that most of the incantations I remember seeing in the show was in Latin or Enochian (this wasn't one of the things I did research on so I'm basing that solely off my memory) meaning that Latin would be a basic language hunters would have in their toolkits. I think however, that Sam started out with a better mastery of reading Latin than in pronouncing it out loud or using it, and Dean started out with the opposite. My main basis for that is that growing up, Sam was delegated to research more, whereas Dean spent more time with John out hunting, and so I think Sam had more chances to use his knowledge of Latin by reading old manuscripts, whereas Dean rarely needed to read Latin the way Sam had to growing up, so I think he has a decent ability to pronounce and speak Latin out loud, but he has a difficult time reading it.

I've read a lot of fics where Dean is not able to even really speak any Latin with any sense of ease, and I will say I don't think this is fully accurate. Dean has a tendency to play up his rough, uneducated exterior but when presented with areas of interest, he seems to consume knowledge just as rapidly as Sam. (Ex. he mentions reading Vonnegut and when presented with Samuel Colt's journal he is just as excited as Sam is about being able to read it, enough so he doesn't let Sam read it and says "get your own")

So in this case, I think Dean would be decent at understanding how to at least pronounce correctly basic Latin, because it's an extension of hunting, specifically an extension of hunting that denotes action (speaking Latin out loud would only be used in incantation, not research) and I think whether he truly enjoyed the process of learning it itself, he'd be as devoted to knowing enough Latin to use reliably as he was with any other areas of hunting.

I do think however, Dean is not interested in being able to reliably read Latin, because I think he and Sam are both used to their delegated roles that they're played since childhood, Sam that of the family researcher, and Dean that of the main body/protector.

Sam on the other hand would most likely become just as proficient in speaking Latin out loud as Dean after Stanford and as he grew into his role of working side by side with Dean in the field, but he'd never lose his proficiency with reading Latin because he never left the research role.

2)I think Sam would have a pick of many languages when he went to Stanford to choose to take for electives (he did, I looked up all their language programs and it's an impressive list), and he could've taken something like Latin that he already had practice in, but I think this would not have been in character for Sam with the way he seems to enjoy but also place a sense of control and worth in his ability to learn new things. So Latin would've been thrown out as a possibility. The reason I think he would've found Hebrew interesting enough to consider is again Sam's interest in god and religion. In the show Sam was a religious man from childhood, who was nondenominational, while still clearly holding base beliefs from Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam), such as a belief in a singular god and in angels. On a meta level, I think this has to do with the fact that they tried specifically through the show to make it so that Supernatural while often centering on religious/theological subjects, was not a show making a religious message, and Sam being overly interested and practicing from one religion specifically would have swayed it towards that direction. That being said though, Sam does still show a clear interest in both religion and specifically Abrahamic religions. So, if Stanford required him to take language electives, and required him to take other electives that would include the possibility of religious classes, I think Sam would be intrigued not only in taking classes that discuss Abrahamic religions, but being the kind of person he is and already being used to researching and reading through old manuscripts, would think to pair Hebrew with said electives so he could read original documents himself.

3)Ok so this last one I did try to do research, but as stated above, I do not know how to read the language root charts. Feel free to infodump to me about those in a later date if that if something you like Ciel, because I wouldn't mind understanding better, but I couldn't make much heads or tails of them. What I could figure out though is that if Sam already knew Hebrew, and Latin, then he would know two languages that gave him some basic jumping ground to other branches. Latin for the romance languages and Hebrew for the Semitic languages. I think when Sam realized that this gave him a possible jumping ground for translating texts and manuscripts in similar languages, he would want to learn more base language roots. I looked up a chart of every monster Sam and Dean fought in the first five seasons to try to figure out what kind of theological system many of their monsters would come from, and most of them actually seem to be Abrahamic leaning, because they have ties to demons. When they are not tied to demons they seem to be.....all over the place honestly. I ended up writing a list of all the non Abrahamic monsters (not demons or angels) they fought season 1-5 and listing their theological origins and the language roots for those and.....dude they're all different and it wasn't helpful at all.

So I'm honestly just saying a germanic root because 1) Sam already knows English and 2) they fight one monster that has Norse theological roots.

Hopefully all of that made sense, I'm not convinced I am speaking English at this point and I really really need to go to bed, but I wanted to answer this and it turned into a rabbit hole lol

[the-wednesday-tales]

17th Birthday

When he wakes up on his seventeenth birthday, Dean doesn’t expect much. He can’t even remember the last time he celebrated a birthday- Sammy will usually give him a (terribly) hand-drawn card and whatever little gift he’s managed to scrounge up on the road, but John lets the day pass just like any other. Dean doesn’t even want much, a simple happy birthday and candle to blow out would be more than enough..but he knows better than to ask for even that.

It’s been almost a year  since John dragged him out of the boys home and back on the road. He’s been looking at Dean differently ever since, a subtle change that Dean can’t quite put his finger on, but can feel palpably nevertheless. He wants to know what he did, but he’s even more afraid to find out. For now he keeps his head down and does as he’s asked, like always.

Dean sighs and rolls out of bed, gets dressed. He throws together what could pass as breakfast for him and Sammy, and when they’re finished John walks in and hands Dean a rifle. Dean silently follows him out into the forest, where they waste away the morning shooting at trees and tin cans.

Sam sits on a stump reading the whole time.

When they get back to the room, Dean has barely sat down at the table to clean the guns when a stack of papers lands in front of him with a plop. He looks up to see John looming over the table, a hard glint in his eyes. Dean eyes the papers warily.

John clears his throat, “There’s a couple of ghosts terrorizing the convent just outside of town. Two nuns haunting the place”.

Dean glances up at John. “Should I pack a bag, so we can head out right away?”

John shakes his head, slaps a gruff hand down on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m going to stay behind with Sammy. It’s time you took on a hunt by yourself. It’s a simple salt and burn, so even you can’t fuck that up.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezes hard enough to bruise and Dean bites his tongue and nods, shame burning at the back of his throat. John gives him keys to the Impala then heads over to Sammy without another word.

Dean tucks the papers into a duffel alongside the salt, matches, and shotgun casings then heads out.

**** When Dean gets to St. Stephen’s Indian Mission, he pulls over on the other side of the road and pulls out the papers to read. The stack contains a section from the town’s newspaper and some photocopied files from the church mentioned.

Dean settles back to start reading, and is barely a couple sentences in when his stomach drops.

Two nuns.

Two nuns who were in love with each other and were found out by the townspeople.

They killed themselves shortly after, bled out beside one another in the convent’s cemetery, curled together beneath the statue of St. Stephen.

Dean has to close his eyes and swallow against the bile that rises in his throat.

He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows.

Dean draws in a few shaky breaths and slowly opens his eyes. He finally knows what changed, finally understands why John has been looking at him differently. John knows.

Dean cycles through his memories, tries to pinpoint how John could have figured it out. Dean’s been so careful…so careful. He never looks too long, he never flirts, and he certainly has never brought a boy back to the motel. And yet John still knows.

Maybe he can tell just by looking at Dean.

He spends a few more moments in the car, tamping down the rising panic before he gets out and starts investigating.

*** Night has fallen and Dean has spent the better part of two hours locating the graves of the two nuns- Helen and Adelaide. They were hidden in the forest behind the cemetery, marked by two simple crosses. They weren’t even given the decency of being buried in the cemetery, let alone a headstone.

He spends another couple of hours digging up the two graves. Two graves is so much harder then one, and tiring when you’re the only one digging.

He understands what this hunt is now. He understands why it’s his first one alone.

It’s punishment.

John sent him out here as punishment for what he has done, for who he is.

Dean wonders how many hunts, how many punishments he will have to endure until he is normal, until he is clean.

By the time he uncovered both sets of bones, the moon is high in the sky and lights the graves in an eerie bluish color. The nuns are dressed in plain clothes, their habits no where to be seen. Dean bites his cheek until it bleeds. Of course they aren’t in their habits. They defied God. They defied the natural order. They were sinners…abominations.

And now John knows. He knows Dean is just like them. That he is tainted, wrong, unnatural.

Dean goes to pour the salt into the two graves, but stops.

With tears slipping down his cheeks, he carefully moves one set of bones into the other grave. Places them side by side until they are resting together.

Maybe they couldn’t be together when they were alive, but at least now they will be together forever. They deserve that much.

He pours the salt and lights the match. Drops it in with a shaking hand.

He watches as the flames burn steadily. He contemplates stepping into the flames for just a second, a minute. No one else would have to know if he died. His secret would be safe. And he would be clean, right? The fire would purify him, purge him of sins and cleanse his soul of its stains.

But the thought passes, and he thinks of Sammy. He can’t leave him alone. Sammy deserves a good father and while John damn well will never be one, Dean can try.

Dean watches until the flames burn out, tears silently streaming down his face.

On the drive back he has to pull over on the side of the road to throw up. He retches until there’s nothing left in his stomach and the bile burns his throat. When he’s done his chest is heaving, but he still feels sick. His throat burns and his heart hurts when he thinks of Helen and Adelaide. He wonders if he’ll meet the same fate.

He spends a few minutes kneeling in the dirt panting, then pushes himself to his feet, wipes his mouth clean, and gets back in the car.

When he returns to the motel room, he can’t meet John’s eyes. Dean  knows that look will be written plainly across John���s face, knows now what that look means and why it’s there.

He tells John “It’s done” and goes to bed.

*** The next time John sends him on a solo hunt won’t be for years after that.

Inspired by @halfofmysoull @heller-jensen @bisexualrowena and the gut wrenching thing that is J*hn W*nchester’s journals.

Now on ao3

[venhedish]

Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells..  .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed.  It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue.   But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out?  .

In Sanguine Vita Est   ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different?  .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

 I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

 Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. . 

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

[mittensmorgul]

Not an ask, just a thought that has probably been talked about to the bone, but thinking about despite how much Dean and others undersell his intelligence and misunderstand his motivations, he still took the time to get his GED. Like, as a hunter, he doesn't really have any need for it - no one's asking for credentials - and yet he did that one thing. Out of self-consciousness, or a desire to prove to himself he could do it, idk, but that is something that is sticking in my brain today.

I know, right? I personally get the feeling that a lot of Dean’s “Sam’s the smart brother” and the way he talks about anything to do with studying or learning stems from his own rationalization of his sacrifices so that Sam could have as normal an education as possible. It was never that Dean WASN’T just as smart as Sam, but that he never had the mental and emotional space to invest in his own education the same way Sam did. He never had “leisure time” the way Sam did, he had stress about John, about hunting, about monsters, about taking care of Sam in ways that far exceeded John’s orders to him.

I mean, John told Dean to watch out for him, to keep the secrets from him (which worked until Sam was old enough to go digging through John’s journal on his own and push Dean into telling him some of the truth), and even then Dean gave Sam just the basics. We saw Dean ordered to literally stand guard over Sam when he couldn’t have been more than nine years old, armed with a gun and given almost no information about the thing it certainly looked like John had been using his children as bait to lure in...

Imagine growing up like that, where doing almost ~anything~ for himself was punished as disobedience, with the potential punishment spelled out as “if you fail, Sam dies.” It’s bound to fuck someone up big time, you know?

So Dean rationalized. He framed himself as “not smart enough” or “not as good as Sam” or “I’m only good for grunt work.” Because that was how he justified it to himself.

*pauses to cry about Dean for a while*

This was the performance Sam bought into about Dean, and only on exceedingly rare occasions did he admit he could see through the mask. This is why their pride at swapping the lines about “hey, I read” in 9.04 pisses me off so much. Dean *does* read. He, in fact, being a nerd for horror/fantasy/sci fi in ways that Sam never was was KEY to his characterization, and I (like Robbie Thompson) will never not be mad they took that from Dean in an episode where we were shown he shared that with Charlie, our secret lil nerd who took pleasure in storytelling, in telling his OWN story, even if it was largely just for *himself.*

Because HE DOES find his own escapism from the grim responsibility and duty of his own life through movies, television, and books. He’s just as capable of intellectual pursuits as Sam is, just as capable of research and understanding as Sam is, only he was never given a CHANCE to succeed academically the way Sam was, because Dean didn’t have a big brother making it possible for him to do that.

So why the GED? Why even bother? Was he just stuck in some town babysitting Sam while John was off hunting and saw they were offering the test? Just took it on a whim to see if he could pass? Killing time while Sam was off being a mathlete one afternoon? Or did he do it after Sam left for Stanford? Was he entirely on his own at that point and thought, well without having to always watch out for Sam, I can do whatever I want now, and maybe what I want is to prove I could’ve done that too, maybe I could’ve got out and gone to college and had a life like Sam wants...

Not that he would’ve left hunting and run off to try to be normal, but just to prove he could.

This sort of observation about Dean was why I wrote  Dean's Days Off, because I just *know* he carved out time to do stuff just for himself-- stuff Sam would’ve thought was incredibly out of character for him, stuff that John would’ve punished him for, stuff Dean himself may have felt was “shirking his duty” or otherwise not being the good little soldier John had forced him to be.

He’s just as smart, just as intelligent, just as intellectually curious as Sam is, and he deserved to have a life of his own. Sometimes I think Cas was the only character who truly got that...

How is it that every post now comes back around to the finale and how absolutely fucked it was?

[shirtlesssammy]

1x20: Dead Man's Blood

Guys! We really wanted to save this VERY SPECIAL episode until the end, but it’s just SO special we couldn’t wait. It’s the episode that all mythology of the show balances on --John being a deadbeat on his own hunts, JENNY!!, and vampires (aka, the one thing Dean can’t kill and also something this family has never run into before so, you know, John could HAVE never described masked ones in his journal)

Fun fact: Jenny isn’t actually named in this episode (because woman don’t matter enough to name, silly!) Giving this character a name is the slowest burn storyline this entire show had!

Then:

John Winchester: Father of the Decade

Now:

Manning, Colorado

Mr. Elkins sits at a bar, pouring over his hunter journal. Some rowdy newcomers appear. 

Mr. Elkins takes off for home --a run down cabin in the woods. One of the bar newcomers is waiting for him. Her eyes flash and he throws a knife into her torso. She pulls it out without issue and chases him. He runs to his safe and pulls out the Colt (do we know about the Colt yet? Whatever, spoiler!) but it’s too late, he’s attacked by a couple of other dudes that fly in from the ceiling. Dinner time for the monsters!

At a diner, Dean suggests they head east to find Sarah Blake again. 

Sam dismisses such foolishness (because the idea of Sam ending up happy with a woman that we know and like is pure nonsense!!) and mentions the death of Daniel Elkins. Dean remembers that name from John’s journal. ‘

The brothers head to Colorado and check out Elkins’ home. Dean finds Elkins’ journal. 

They also find the place torn apart --and weird scratches on the floor. Dean takes a rubbing and realizes that it’s a message for a post box. They head there next and find a note for ‘JW’ in the box. 

Before they can open the letter, good ol’ John Winchester appears. He tells them that he saw them at Daniel’s place. Sam asks why he didn’t come in. “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed.” LISTEN, asshole, these two brothers are doing JUST FINE without you. 

John tells the boys that he knew Daniel, but they had a falling out (Jesus, who didn’t you fight with back in the day, John?) John reads Daniel’s letter to him.

John asks if they saw a gun at Elkins’ place. Nope. John rushes out insistent on catching the things that killed Elkins. Sam and Dean ask what they are. 

Vampires!

Sam and Dean are shocked that they’re real. John goes over the lore for this show. 

We watch the vamps hunt for dinner. A couple is stopped by a body in the road, and while the dude goes to check it out, the woman calls 911. The dude doesn’t last long (and the lady probably doesn’t either.) 

John hears the news on the police scanner. Without explanation, he tells his sons to follow him to find the vamps. John confirms that they’re on the right trail for the vampires but Sam wants proof. 

He found a fang. They head out --but not before John gets a dig into Dean about how he takes care of his car. 

While driving, Sam and Dean break down their mutual feelings about having John back. Dean’s the little soldier and Sam is not. (And Sam is driving, like Dean can’t even be in control and drive the car he loves so much because he can’t truly handle his father’s overbearing abuse?)

At an abandoned barn, the vamps party it up while the couple stay tied up and freaking out about their fate. Then the Keifer Sutherland of the group arrives, giving them permission to feed on the dude. 

Kate tells Luther about Daniel Elkins, and he gets upset. More people will track them now. He then sees the Colt. “This is no ordinary gun.” 

On the road, Dean tells Sam to pull over because John said so. Sam gets pissy and has a little drag race with pops. And that’s the last time Sam ever drove the Impala. Sam gets in John’s grill about the gun and what they’re doing. 

Dean tries to play peacemaker, but it is REALLY TOUGH with these two. John accuses Sam of leaving. Sam accuses John of shutting him out. Dean just wants a HAPPY FAMILY. 

Kate and Luther attack the lone surviving victim, Jenny, feeding her Kate’s blood. Somebody wrote on Tumblr recently about this scene and I had blocked it out. Pretty sure I’ve only seen this episode a few times and BELIEVE IT OR NOT Jenny’s fate just did not stick with me. I’d forgotten how highly sexualized they’d made this vampire scene, and then gone further and draped it in assault. Jenny “dies” terrified, victim of one of the few same-sex kisses (on screen) in this entire damn show. Excuse me while I stomp around for a while rending my hair and hurling curses!

Later outside the vampires’ lair, the Winchesters surveil the place. Vamps CAN walk in the sunshine and they do NOT sparkle. John reveals his intricate plan: just...walk into the barn while they’re asleep.

For Still Beautiful, Still Dean Winchester Science:

John fills them in FINALLY on the Colt. Samuel Colt made a gun on the same night as the Battle of the Alamo. Sorry. Just. This is such a random story detail that has literally nothing to do with the Colt? Anyway, Colt made the gun for a hunter and gave him thirteen bullets. The hunter disappeared with only half the bullets used up because the FIRST RULE of the elder wand - I mean, the Colt - is never to brag about the Colt, probably. 

The kicker is that the Colt can purportedly kill anything! Like bigfoot! Or God! Or the legendary, rumored-to-be-extinct vampire! (Or, sure, the demon that killed Mary Winchester.) John is hinging their demon-killing success on getting the Colt. The potential vampire killing is just blood-red icing on the cake. 

In the barn, John creeps up slowly on the sleeping Kate and Luther, eyes set on the Colt dangling on their bedpost. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean stop their search for the Colt when they realize that there are people trapped for food in the barn. (Good beans!) They work to set them free when Jenny wakes up. She immediately lets out an inhuman roar as soon as she sees Sam.

Luther wakes up and chucks John across the room. He shouts for them to split, and the Winchesters flee. “Once a vampire gets your scent, it’s for life,” John explains. [insert Benny/Dean joke here] 

While Dean’s raiding a funeral home, John “bonds” with Sam in the motel. He reveals that he put $100 in a college fund for Sam and Dean when they were born. He did that up until Mary died, and then he shifted his focus to raising his boys to be soldiers. (So literally just $100 for Sam’s account, then.) “Somewhere along the line I stopped being your father.” NO SHIT, JOHN. 

Sam tells John that he used to think they were different, but after Jess died he’s wholly in the fight. They bond over their twin quests for revenge and when John reveals that he spent his boys’ college funds on ammunition, Sam laughs. What a Hallmark moment! Dean returns with dead man’s blood, and they get to work.

That night, Dean gets dangled out as bait: the dude-in-distress bending over a “broken-down” Impala. I just. Can’t even. With this show. 

Kate finds him and they trade witty banter. She also kisses him which…. Excuse me, I’m going to stare into the middle distance for a while, grinding my teeth. 

Arrows thwack into the vampires’ chests just in time, I guess? The dead-man’s-blood soaked arrows start to leach into their system, slowing them down. The Winchesters capture Kate, and kill the second vampire. 

Sam confronts John about his plan to get the Colt and then scuttle away from his sons again. “You can’t treat us like this. Like children.” 

“That’s crap,” Dean calls out John. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can’t be that worried about keeping us safe.” John’s got to do the hunt ALONE! It’s the only way! 

Back with the vamp family, Luther learns about the hunters who’ve captured Kate (and severed their first head). 

Luther zeroes in on John’s truck, tearing down the highway. He can tell that Kate’s inside it. And sure enough, Kate starts to wake up next to John. The vamp squad pursues the truck. 

At the barn, Sam and Dean break in to confront the lone, possibly drunk vampire. It’s time to go antiquing! ALSO Dean Winchester breaks out the blood prisoners. “I told you I’d come back!” Readers, I love him.

With the vamps, John demands a trade: the Colt for Kate. He almost gets the Colt, but Kate overpowers him, knocking him out. It looks like the end for John Winchester EXCEPT an arrow thwacks into a vampire out of nowhere. Cue triumphant music, for it’s Sam and Dean Winchester to the rescue! Sam gets captured in the fight, and John blows one of the Colt’s precious bullets right into Luther’s forehead. The vampire dies in slow motion dramatic glorious fashion.

Jenny takes off to - APPARENTLY - live on in infamy on the back end of the show. John tells his kids that they are, in fact, stronger as a family. It’s time to hunt the demon together! Aw, bonding time! 

Buffy the Vampquote Slayer:

Vampires? I thought there was no such thing

Revenge isn't worth much if you end up dead

We’re stronger as a family

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[fandom-hoarder]

listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result.      Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.”      They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly. 

     “Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work.      “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?”      Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.”      Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.”      “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

     The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either. 

     As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

     Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

     Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake. 

     Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so. 

     Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her. 

     The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock. 

     At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

     Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

     Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

     Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

     Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough. 

     “We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time.      “Me first,” Dean demands, childish.      “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.”      “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

     Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him. 

     “That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?”      “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.”      “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly.      “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

     “And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again.      “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

     Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal.      “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

     “You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone.      “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns.      “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

     Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years,  and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at?      “How?” he questions, suspicion rising.      “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states.      Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

     The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.”      “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers.      “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

     Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke.      “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant.      But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.” 

     Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. 

     “Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone.      “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him.      “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

     “You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

     “You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!”  he continues cynically.      “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.”      “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

     Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

     “I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

     Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's.      “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

     For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two.      “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

     Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride. 

     Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father.      Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

     Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

     The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again.      “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

     But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.       “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

     His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him. 

     Take care of Sammy. 

     He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​ , and @cracksinthewalls​ for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says. 

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee. 

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

 “Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?” 

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.” 

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers. 

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.” 

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. 

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile. 

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long. 

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here: 

Part 1 

Part 2

Part 3

Dean has Castiel pinned to the wall in a blink.

He’s disgusted and he feels dirty, and betrayed, and he’d rather Castiel had killed him 15 years ago.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he hisses in Castiel’s face. Dean’s mind is whirling with thoughts, spinning in a hurricane, and he can’t make sense of much at this moment except John killed Cas’s dad, Cas has been stalking him for almost two decades, and now he wants Dean to help him become human?

Dean can’t even count the degrees of fucked up here.

“Dean,” Castiel grunts low, against the forearm over his windpipe. “You don’t have to trust me, you just have to help me.”

“I said, shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”

Castiel clenches his jaw. He grabs at Dean’s shoulders and spins them around, much stronger and faster, and then they’re in the same position back at the bar, and Dean is willing his dick to fucking behave.

“I’ve got no reason to lie to you. It serves me nothing. I need your help, Dean. You’re the only one who can turn me. You and your brother have connections I don’t, spells I couldn’t get my hands on. I need you.”

“How do you know about Sam?” Dean bites out.

“I told you,” Castiel lets up a little, takes a single step back. “I’ve been checking in on you every few months since we met. I moved to Lebanon a few years back when I saw you were here.”

“You’re fucked up, dude. Why would you do that? My daddy kills your daddy and you think we’re friends?”

Castiel looks down, frowns, and Dean sees something real there. “I wanted to keep you safe. Your father, as weird as this may seem… Dean, he saved me from a much harsher existence. I guess I felt I owed it to him. As a thank you.”

Unprompted, Dean’s mind goes back to that night and he sees the bite marks, their ugly texture again, feels the weight on top of his hips pinning him down as dinner on the ground. He’s looking at Castiel and all he can think of is how he’s a monster. One of them.

But if Cas is a monster, just like his father before him, why was he grateful John practically made him an orphan? It occurs to Dean that he has no idea what Castiel’s dad made him do, and then it occurs to him that it’s so ugly he might not want to know.

Dean clears his throat and responds quietly, “Well, Mr. Winchester really appreciates it.” He waits until Castiel looks back up at him to ask: “You said you were half-human?”

“My mother,” Castiel nods, his face somber in an instant. “She raised me until her death and then my father found me. And he tried to make me like him for years, until your father. Until you.”

Dean realizes then that he feels pity, and a lot of it. He realizes that the Castiel he met at the bar might have been covering it up but it was there, and it’s here now. He feels a little breathless because this is something John’s journal can’t help him with. Here, in front of him, is a monster, asking not to be, acting like he isn’t. He’s more than one hundred percent sure no hunter in the history of hunting has ever gone through this before. Castiel is one of a kind.

“What are you, Cas?”

Castiel swallows, turning and walking over to sit on the couch. Dean stays leaning against the wall, needing something real that will convince him to not kill the other (half) man in the room with him until he fully explains.

Castiel’s eyes are blue in all the ways they can be. “I don’t know,” he responds. “I just know I can’t be like this anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“It means that you’re my only chance of living for the rest of my life. Otherwise, I’d rather die.”

Dean knows that look too well, sees it in himself sometimes, and before he can stop himself, he asks, “What the hell did you do, Cas?”

Castiel sighs, looking like his exhaustion runs bone-deep. He swallows, opens his mouth, closes it.

He takes a moment and tries again. “I almost killed a man. He was homeless, and I was trying to help. I bent down to give him some money, and I hadn’t eaten anything of real substance in months…” Castiel’s throat works uselessly. “I guess I lost control,” he finishes hoarsely.

Dean's brain is not connected to his mouth and it’s working on its own to ask the worst questions it can. But Dean tries not to feel too bad, because Castiel is a monster, as he prompts, “What kind of food do you eat?”

Castiel presses his knuckles to his eyelids, rubbing them. “I’ve never killed anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve only had deceased bodies. With being half-human, I found I don’t need to eat as much, but if I want to keep living I need to eat eventually. The longest I’ve gone without feeding was 7 and a half months and I was on the brink of death by then.”

“You almost killed me that night.”

Castiel pulls his hand away from his eyes and glares up at Dean. “Emphasis on almost.”

Despite himself and the situation, Dean chuckles. Maybe it’s Castiel’s half-human side, maybe Dean’s still drunk, but it feels easy. It’s exactly like it was back at the bar yet everything’s changed. Dean’s not sure he’s gonna leave with Castiel this time. Dean’s not sure he’s gonna leave a decapitated body behind, either.

In this state of questioning, he decides to sit down next to Castiel on the couch.

“So that’s the why now. Why us?”

Castiel tilts his head, narrows his eyes. “You’re the Winchesters. Surely, you must know what that means within your own circle. Sam is a great sorcerer, and you’re the best hunter in history.”

Dean feels his cheeks heat up a little, embarrassed. “Sheesh, I thought you stopped the sweet talkin’ act at the bar, Cas. We’re just guys doin’ our best. We’re not all that.”

Castiel stares into his soul as he disagrees, “You’re worth more than you think.”

Dean wants to kiss him. He does. He doesn’t have air in his lungs because he’s never heard that from anyone before, and maybe the only source of oxygen left is Cas’s lips. Dean wants to breathe. But he grips his kneecaps tightly, and holds himself back.

He stands up again, clears his throat. Dean doesn’t know why, but he believes Cas. He’s gonna help him. If he can’t help him then…

“Dude,” he turns back to Castiel, crossing his arms. “Whatever happens, you gotta leave us alone after this. This stalking thing is just…”

“I understand, Dean,” Castiel says gravely, resolved. “In any scenario, you’ll never have to deal with me again after this. I swear it.”

****

All in all, it’s not surprising in the least that Sam was excited about the situation Dean found himself in.

He called Sam in the middle of the night, waking him up, and after the grumpy moose-witch sleepily groaned his frustrations out through the phone, Dean told him segments of the truth and what he planned to do. Sam didn’t need to know that Cas had been stalking them, or that they’d briefly met as teens, or that they made out before Cas kidnapped him. Sam just needed to agree to say some of his Latin crap, wave his hands around a little, and try to cure Cas.

Was it really curing if Castiel had never been… evil in the first place?

Dean didn’t want to think about monster ethics, he just wanted to see if Sam could help him solve the problem, so he could be rid of it. Getting rid of Castiel seemed like the best thing to do so he wouldn’t have to think about the mess his dad made. If he had just killed him back then, he wouldn’t be dealing with this now! Dean was having a tug of war in his brain, one side already swinging a machete at Cas’s neck, the other bringing him to the bunker to see where this went, to make him normal, and maybe give him a life.

He hunted to help people, and in a fucked up way, that’s what this was.

But this was also completely unprecedented. Dean didn’t and wouldn’t have anyone else to tell him what is the right or wrong answer. He had to figure this out himself. He had to go with his gut.

Well, his gut told him that Castiel seemed like a good person that just had the wrong blood running through his veins. His nature was good, no matter how much they tried to nurture him to be his worst.

Dean’s evidence? Apart from an excellent guessing streak and a trusty gut feeling that always got him out of the shit at the last minute, Castiel had confessed to have been watching him and Sam for… yeah, 15 whole years. If he wanted them dead, he could have done it by now. That’s just a fact.

Another fact was how… human Castiel was. Is. He is half-human. Dean has to remind himself that when Castiel effortlessly lifts up his living room couch. He also has to remind himself Castiel is half-monster when he delicately hands him a cup of warm tea. Dean only grimaces at it a little, and then he blows on it once, downs it impatiently, and they leave for the bunker. He ignores the burning in the back of his throat and on his tongue, and he lets Led Zeppelin fill the silence on the drive back.

Dawn is still breaking when they get to the bunker. Dean has not slept in over a day, and the back of his head is swollen, and he just wants his bed. He can wake up and deal with Cas after he gets his four hours.

Sam is practically jumping up and down, eyes wide and alert and assessing as he meets Castiel, like he’s the coolest science-experiment-gone-wrong he’s ever seen. Dean feels bad for Cas, who simply stands there in that trenchcoat and lets Sam stumble through asking his questions and studying him. Dean has to remind himself yet again that Castiel is a monster. Then he’s off to bed.

****

Maybe it was the borderline concussion, but Dean’s body ends up needing a good six fucking hours, and he wakes up like the birds are singing him awake. He’s not even that bothered by the thought that there is a human-eating monster in his house. Maybe the night made his newest problem seem worse than it is.

But maybe the monster problem isn’t it. The actual problem would be Dean’s attraction to said monster.

Castiel has stripped down to just his white collared shirt, sleeves rolled up. No tie. They’re in the basement when he finds them, where Cas is sitting on a dentist-looking chair, and Sam is barely fitting in a normal chair right next to him. There are various small vials on top of the table behind them, where a bunch of bowls and needles also sit. Dean feels a little sick at the sight.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Sam is so engrossed in the conversation with Castiel, he jumps a little, blinking, and then he looks at Dean. “Oh! Mornin’ Dean. I got some blood samples from Castiel, and we were just talking about possible things we could use them for. Like spells and such we could try. He knows his stuff,” Sam can’t hide the surprise in his voice. “He’s actually studied a lot of witchcraft.”

Dean nods. When he looks at Castiel, he’s struck back by his little smile and his bright eyes. He looks… excited. Dean feels something behind his ribs twist.

“Good morning, Dean. How is your head? How did you sleep?”

“His head?” Sam whips his head to Castiel, furrowing his brows.

Subconsciously, Dean brings a hand up to the back of his head. “It’s fine.” Then to Sam, “I, uh. I backed into a tall shelf over at Cas’s. ‘S nothing.”

Castiel seems utterly relieved to hear, and Sam just shrugs after a few seconds of staring at Dean. He goes back to sealing the vial in his hand.

But Dean is looking at Castiel again, and Castiel at Dean. Dean has to swallow to start breathing again. He wants to kick Sam out and jump on Cas. He wants to sit down and ask him if he’s okay, how he’s feeling about being poked and prodded at (even if he said he’d do anything for his goal). Hell, he wants to hold his hand and put a bandaid on him. He wants to get the fuck out of there, where the air is suddenly too thin, and where he sees Castiel’s face fall after his own crumbles.

[corancoranthemagicalman]

Okay so I thought of this all in the shower so it's a wee bit messy but like TL;DR do you think Dean was paralleled to John in his Widower Arc and if so, what does that say about how John treated Sam vs how Dean treated Jack?:

Canonically, Sam Winchester was most like John in the earlier seasons. More distinctly, Dean was not like John despite trying to be. Yeah, Dean drove Baby and he wore the jacket, but those are all the marks of someone trying to fit into a shadow and not being their own man. When Sam walked away from Stanford, he was his own man. And in his grief for Jessica, we see how he paralleled John with his hunt for revenge.

Interestingly, Dean raised Sammy in opposition to how John raised them. While I'm not here to enter the great John Winchester debate, I am here to say that according to John's canonical journal, Sam's first word was Dean and that means something. [At least, I'm pretty sure I read that in his journal. I don't even remember anymore. These are thoughts and nothing more.]

[Also, that being said, while I’m not here to debate John Winchester’s parernting, if you think there were no issues with how he raised his boys then this post is not for you. My John Winchester feelings are for another post, though because they are hella complicated.]

But anyways, obviously Dean made sure Sam had holidays and birthdays and dinners when John wasn't there. And we hardly get any flashback of John that wasn't centered around a hunt. So, textually Dean was Sam’s parent. His big brother who raised him is much more accurate, but this is important in reaffirming that Dean Winchester is fairly Mary-coded.

Dean's growth from defending his father against Sam to calling his dad out to his own inner demon was a big ol' chef's kiss. He literally calls how he sees his father's personality - "an obsessed bastard." [Can you tell I obsess over that line? It’s so good.]

Still despite this, despite the meta-narrative contrasting how Dean [Mary-coded] influenced Sam, when All Along The Watchtower happened, when Castiel was pierced by Lucifer's blade, some part of Dean went out the window.

He had parts of his father's personality. He can get obsessive. He does drink. Etc, etc, etc.... but here we see him reach his father's level of obsessive and drinking. This is Dean's Widower Arc.

Surprisingly, despite Dean being Mary-coded and early season Castiel being John-coded (I'm just saying.... perfect solider. All he knows. Obsessive to the point of Bad Decisions Baby~. They're not exactly alike by any means, but there was some similarities. But this might have been sharing similarities with Dean and these similarities within Dean were parts of his father that he was projecting onto himself. I digress---)

Despite all of that, in the Widower Arc, Castiel has become the girl on the ceiling. He is Mary-coded/Jess-coded. It's just instead of burning in fire on a ceiling his grace burned out from his body on a muddy floor. Which there's probably some symbolism there but so not the point of this post and I don’t know if I can mentally handle disecting that. Dean Winchester becomes his father.

I feel like they narratively did not draw enough attention to this. [Which ain’t that the same old song and dance? How much sustenance did this show have that they just... never used?] On one hand, Dean is truly excellent with kids. Truly. There's a lot of canon evidence proving this fact. And again, he literally raised Sam. However, whether due to his grief or Jack being Grown-Shaped or both, he never treats Jack like a child. Which is a direct parallel to how John treated his boys as soldiers. Except in this case, Dean doesn't see Jack as a soldier. He sees him as a weapon.

Do you see where I'm going with this.

Yellow Eyes/Lucifer kills Mary/Castiel because they want The Boy With The Demon Blood who shall be a weapon in the Apocalypse.

[Also, side step, if Lucifer is Yellow Eyes-coded for this story arc, then Mary taking him back into the Other World is THAT much more meaningful because she's taking down the demon who fridged her but anyways that's another digression---]

Obviously, it was Lucifer who killed Castiel and not Jack, but Dean blames Jack for Castiel's death. His mere existence made these things come after him, and Castiel defending his son is what got him killed.

Mary Winchester was killed because she tried to stop Yellow Eyes from getting what she promised him. She was killed defending her son.

We know John treated the boys differently. I know it was probably because Sam was a baby and Dean had a full four years on being dad's little soldier first, but---

And giving thought to the fact that Sam's Blood Addiction arc was working with the fact that he was monster coded---

Do you think, in John's grief, he blamed Sam for Mary's death and do you think this - whether intentionally or not - this was what Dean’s attitude toward Jack was paralleling?

Because that is canonical of Dean, internalizing grief into anger I mean. He feels such intense sorrow, but sorrow doesn't get work done. Anger does. So he gets angry and he stays angry and if he's angry at Jack, at least he's functioning.

I personally think it was A Choice™️ that John Winchester was not included in a lot of the arcs that Sam was going through that addressed him as The Boy With The Demon Blood. He was only really centered in arcs where Yellow Eyes was the forefront of his attention. And I also think it was A Choice™️ that John Winchester made a deal for Dean’s life. 

ACTUALLY I JUST LOOKED THAT UP TO MAKE SURE I WAS REMEMBERING THAT DEAL RIGHT AND--- AND JOHN LITERALLY TELLS DEAN TO KILL SAM IF HE TURNS EVIL. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD JACK KLINE IS SO SAM-CODED. I CANNOT----

Also, also --- what the fuck. According to the wiki it was established that John went to Hell for over a century and didn’t take up the offer to slice and dice for his moment off of the rack, but Dean Winchester did, and what does that mean in how Dean was raised even if he’s trying to be like his dad, and----

[That is SO another post.]

I don't know where I was going with this, honestly. I think I was just trying to give voice to numerous parallels they unintentionally established but never followed through with. My point was definitely to drive home that Jack Kline is Sam Winchester in Dean’s John-coded Arc.

And Dean's Widower Arc is just so meta-textual to me. Castiel subtextually dies in childbirth and Dean is left raising his kid with his brother and that's just SO MUCH to unpack that we apparently did not have time for and it drives me WILD.

Dean's Widower Arc is where I started my glass diet tbh.

[charlie-minion]

charlie-minion(.)tumblr(.)com/post/635987979304943616/could-the-same-spn-finale-make-a-little-more-sense Hey Love! Thanks for such an amazing post! It was still hard for me personally to deal with it for many reasons, but when you mentioned "yeah well we gotta work around Dean dying so let’s work around Dean dying then, stay with me" i understood why u went where u went with it. I just wanted to ask your opinion/suggest/question few things if u don't mind. 1) I can see Dean's speech (1/9)

“If we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing” make sense, except in psychlogy grieving and remembering people who died is not the same as not letting go. I feel this point could be GREATLY improved if we saw some memorabilia in bunker around Cas (without Dean paying much attention to them or being sad about them (2/9)

[?Miracle running to him for cuddles with mixtape in mouth and Dean freaking out about how it’s the best dog ever cuz he loves Led Zeppelin or sth, idk I’m making it up as I go with examples, dont mind me?]) and would either see that Dean is still grieving while working on letting go (not bc he can’t let go, but because grieving is a process and IT IS HEALTHY to grieve. Too many ppl are shamed for needing time to heal(!!) while it’s actually personal and normal and we know Dean doesn’t (3/9)

just insta forget (from experience), and grieving has more to do with emotionality and less with not being able to let go). OR we could be shown in some way that more time passed and he did already get to heal from grief. That would save Dean from seeming suddenly uncaring and emotionless (especially while knowing Cas is in super hell for eternity, not just ‘dead whatever it means’, and considering Dean WAS in hell and knows it’s not ‘fun and games’) towards anyone who isn’t his brother. (4/9)

I realize episode is Sam centered, but this picks huge focus on Dean by omission. 2) I feel it doesn’t matter so much whether Sam picked phone to call as that he easily decided to give up on calling while he could still stay with Dean, listen to him and continue to make the call. That death took like 7-8 minutes of the episode. The phone should be left in the car for example, it being crushed during fight is lame and cheap, but any excuse would be better than (5/9)

“Ok I guess I’ll stop calling and let u die, don’t tell me I didn’t try”. 3) That whole “I love you so much” really hit me hard when I was watching, while I fully agree with the point you made, I feel like adding “so much” was just too passionate. As you said, he needs to say it to Sam before anyone else. "I love you, my baby brother” – second part already makes it valuable and emotional. It does no business being passionate. He is dying (for a while now) adding words that don’t (6/9)

need to be there makes viewer question “Is he rly going to die? He seems to have no problem flowering his words” and to me at least felt like going from 0 (unability to say ILY) to million which just took me from the situation totally as I was questioning if I’m watching the right show/character. It’s like if Dean went to Sam in episode 1 about finding his dad, we would be informed just how relations between Dean and John looks like, and next episode they would go for burgers (7/9)

and Dean would be like “Yeah I got bored of looking for him” and show would end… 4) Also MoTW not being from journal would make world of difference. That’s a callback that rly puts the story back to years before and Dean dying finishing his father’s job seems like a joke in rly bad taste. That’s all that crossed my mind I think. What do you think about those? Sorry for a long msg. I can try to send it via phone in one piece if you would rather. I’m really interested in your opinion on it. (8/9)

I know you were trying to fix stuff with as small changes as possible in your post, but I felt those also were just small things that would mean world to fans and story. Thank you so much for giving yself to the fandom, you’re my all time favourite writer since I remember <3 (9/9)

Hey! Sorry again, I'm the anon from yday with that long question. I just felt it was worth adding: "“Dean is focusing on the task at hand. His attitude, as Ackles puts it, is, “I’m not going to think about what I’ve lost. In turn, I’m just going to focus on what I can fix.” That leads Dean down what Ackles calls a “hopeless road.”" (it’s interview about s13). Just to point out hopelessness in stopping yself from thinking of who u lost to forcefully direct yself to the future. :D 

Hello, Nonnie! Sorry it took me so long to answer. The post you are referring to is this one: Could the same SPN finale make a little more sense with some additions/changes?

I didn’t write that as the kind of finale I would want. I did it to prove the finale could have been the same: pandering to general audience, w*ncest and destiel shippers alike, while still keeping some sort of logic regarding the build up of the story. It didn’t have to be so bad, but it was, and it looks intentionally bad, if I’m being honest. Maybe it was better that way, because it made it easier for us to simply ignore the existence of it. 

Regarding all the points you sent in your messages to me, I’m just gonna post them all together because they seem interesting, but I don’t really want to spend more time thinking about a finale that already hurt me enough. The only two posts I’ve written about the finale were for me to cope, to kinda heal and let it go. Now I just pretend it never happened. I’m glad you had some space to vent and I’m posting your messages so others can read the whole thing and maybe let comments if they want to agree or disagree, but that’s all I can do. 

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me and the fandom as well. Everything that helps us heal is valid. *hugs*

[pie-yrites]

I was a touch from six years old when it happened. Dean was four, not even halfway to five, and little Sammy was six months old. Mom burned on the ceiling, Dad telling Dean go run out with baby Sammy, our entire lives falling apart in a split second. 

I don't write any of that, of course. My teacher asked for our name and one important fact about ourselves onto a note card, to read out loud to the rest of the class. Not only is it disturbing but also unbelievable, and would raise too many questions. 

"My name is Violet Winchester, I hate the colour purple and I'm seven years old." I pout, reading out from what I actually wrote down in red crayon. My attitude seems to garner some giggles and a smile from the teacher, who all think I'm simply being playful. The positive attention brings a small smile to my face and I sit down, not even bothered by the fact that I just got laughed at for hating my own name. 

I wonder how Dee and Sammy are doing.

--

Since mommy died, my life is a lot different. Once it's time for our first recess, I sneak out of the colourful room (walls decorated with paper crafts, soft traffic and space rugs covering the floors, some toys scattered around) and run through the hall, to where I know my Dee is. He's two years younger than me, and Its my job as the oldest to check on him. Dad said so, and what dad says goes. 

Later on I'll realize just how many levels of wrong everything is, just beginning with the fact that my brother should be in kindergarten, but right now that doesn't faze me. My world is small, just me, my family, and the Impala. 

I knock on the door loudly, practically banging my tiny fist against it. The door opens, revealing a teacher unfamiliar but friendly looking nonetheless.

"Hi! Is Dee Winchester in there? I mean Dean. Is he here?" I ask, a stutter coming out from my nerves. This teacher is a boy, unlike mine and it makes a strange difference in my mind. The only boys I like are mine, my family, other boys tend to pick on me for being strange. 

The teacher smiled, slightly unsurprised. It wasn't hard to guess the situation at hand. This wasn't uncommon, for siblings to try and find each other. 

"You must be Violet! Dean has talked a lot about you. Here, come in!" He motioned in and held the door open. I poke my head in, unsure, but instantly relax upon finding him sitting at a table. His classroom was similar to mine, but that wasn't important.

"Pie!" He called out, excited. We ran to each other, and to his dismay I grabbed him into a fierce hug. He was now getting to that age where he wanted to be a man, too tough for his big sister's affection but that didn't bother me.

"Let me go! You have cooties!" He shrieked, as we devolved into wrestling. He was still smaller than me, so I had the upper hand. 

"Nope! Big sis wants her love!" I laughed, not aware of the attention I was bringing us in that classroom. Within seconds, Dee's teacher came over, chuckling. 

"Alright you two, break it up. Violet, you need to go back to your class." And many times over the next few years, that's how it'd go. Any chance I got, I'd seek out Dean. And then eventually, pick him up and find whatever Sammy may be, once he got into school. 

At whatever school we were at for the month, we seemed inseparable, happy, but ultimately normal. 

--

"Grab me a beer, huh Pie?" My dad groaned out, from the couch. I could tell today had been long for him, his voice extra gruff and his movements fatigued and slow. His entrance into the hotel room thankfully hadn't woken Dee or Sammy up, from where they were curled up together on one of the beds right next to the couch. 

"Can I get a pop?" I asked in response, already opening the mini fridge and seeking the cold, brown bottle. The fridge was like many we had before, each in a new and forgotten city, each time stocked with only the bare necessities. Beer and whiskey, formula and baby food, and sometimes if we were on good behaviour, cheap off brand soda pop. 

"It's past midnight. Grab me the damn beer, now." He demanded, his temper short. I'll take that as a no, then, I thought sourly. My only outward response was silence, and then to sit down next to him. The tv was already on, set to the animal channel. He took the bottle from me, a nod as thanks and popped the cap off with the bottle opener he kept on his belt, while I flicked the channel to the local news. 

At this point it was common enough to be a habit. On the nights dad was out late on a hunt, I'd put the boys to bed with a promise that I was just going to shower than lay too. Typically I only took a fast one, in case dad wanted the hot water. Wait on the couch for him, even if it meant staying up far too late and sleeping the next day away. Some nights, dad would order me to bed immediately as soon as he came back, and I'd scurry and try to force myself under to avoid his exhaustion-induced wrath. Other nights he'd ask for a drink and we'd watch television together. On the best nights, his drink would be a pop and I'd even get one too. 

I was physically six,  but with the way we lived sometimes I felt far older. I was old enough from the beginning to realize that our new nomadic lifestyle was something bigger, something much darker. Looking back, I can see that from the youngest of ages, I could always tell when someone was lying to me, or was hiding something insidious. It didn't take long for me to find out what dad was really doing everyday, moving us from city to city, state to state.

"Sammy's about to start walking." I broke the silence between us one night, clearly trying to infer something to my dad. He grunted in response, and took a sip of his beer. The news was covering a traffic accident, involving a motorcyclist. 

"Yea dad, he's been trying his hardest too all day, he's got standing down. Dee's been teaching him, it's been great to see." 

"..." John Winchester was no fool and it was easy to see where his daughter was going with this topic. With a sigh, he turned to me and turned down the tv. 

"You know what I do. I have to protect you, you three are all I have left." He said, slightly sympathetic. 

"Don't go tomorrow. There's a park down the road, take us there. Please dad!" I whined, trying to keep quiet. I didn't know how else to explain myself, that we need him here. That I need him here, and how hard we were living. 

"Go to bed Violet. You're getting cranky. Now." As if the discussion was over and done with. I huffed, which got a glare out of him. 

"Violet…" Dad threatened.

"Yes, dad." And with that, I got up and curled myself up under the covers of my crappy uneven bed. In most situations, dad would try and get a room with two beds and a pull out couch, so Dee and Sammy could share, I could get my own bed, and he'd take the couch. 

--

The next day, after all was said and done, I took a peek at my dad as I fell asleep. He was smiling, writing in his journal on the couch. We were all tuckered out, piled up on the same bed into a power nap. Today Sammy finally walked, towards his big brother (but my little brother), and fell on his face. I hoped that maybe our conversation helped, changed dad for the better. 

I wish everyday was like today. I thought, finally letting sleep and the comforting presence of my brothers lull me to sleep. 

--

Anyways thanks for reading if you got this far. I plan on writing more better stuff, with some actual plot and direction. This turned into more John and reader insert interaction than intended, but I guess that's a given since she takes on the role of eldest now?

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Something Wicked (1.18)

im crying again this boy was a... ChiLd

Pairing: Slight Olive Winchester x Hunter Richmond, usual Olive Winchester sister oc

Summary: John sends the siblings on a hunt, the Winchester and Richmond rivalry rears its head, and the past comes back to haunt the Winchesters

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sickness, guns, probably a knife in there somewhere, etc

Word Count: 6995

“Something’s not right about this, Dean.” Sam scoffed.

“Yeah. You probably missed something, that’s what.” Dean snapped back.

“Dude, we ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers.” Sam sighed.

“De, we couldn’t find a single red flag.” I piped up, glancing between the two.

“Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he double checked. Fitchburg, Wisconsin.”

“Dad wouldn’t have sent us coordinates if it wasn’t important, Sammy.” Dean was trying to stay calm.

Sam ran his hands through his head, frustrated. Jinx whined from his lap, sensing the tension.

“Well, I’m telling you that Olive and I looked and all we could find was a big steamy pile of nothing.” Sam snapped. “If Dad’s sending us hunting for something, I don’t know what.”

“Well maybe he’s gonna meet us there.” Dean offered with a shrug.

“Yeah. Cause he’s been so easy to find up to this point.” Sam snarled.

Dean lost his patience. “You’re a real smart ass, you know that?”

“Hey.” I snapped, glaring at them both. “Both of you calm down.”

Dean snorted. “She’s right. I’m sure there’s something in Fitchburg worth killing.”

“Yeah?” Sam turned. “What makes you so sure?”

“Cause I’m the oldest, which means I’m always right.”

“No it doesn’t.” Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

“It totally does.” Dean sassed back.

Dean glanced at Sam, then back to the road with a grin on his face. I leaned into his side with a huff. Jinx let out a sigh as we passed the sign for Fitchburg, population 20,501.

                                                      ***

“What do you think’s here?” Sam asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Jinx tugged at the leash, and Sam tugged back with a sigh.

“I dunno.” I shrugged, wrapping my jacket tighter around myself. “But Dean’s right, there’s probably something worth our time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and I licked my lips.

“What? Don’t understand the blind faith I have in him?” My arm began to throb.

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes again. “No, actually. I don’t.”

“Has Dean ever let us down?” I narrowed my eyes as I turned to look at him. “Has he ever betrayed us? Hurt us?” I scowled at him.

“Ol-”

“Sam, just answer the question. Has Dean ever led us astray?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. Jinx let out a small yip, and I looked up.

“Hey!” Dean came running across the street with a grin, two coffee cups, and a bottle.

“Juice!” I smiled and plucked the bottle from his hand. “So, what’s going on?”

“Well…” Dean handed Sam a coffee. “The waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, nobody’s heard about anything freaky going on.”

Sam said nothing, staring ahead. I followed his line of sight, only to see an empty playground. I blinked, confused.

“De, you got the time?”

Dean glanced at his watch. “Uh, ten after four. Why?”

Sam nodded to the playground. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“School’s out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So where is everybody?”

“This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

Dean nodded. “C’mon.”

Sam and I followed as he approached the single woman sitting on a park bench, reading a magazine. Jinx sniffed a trail on the floor, then let out a tiny bark. The woman turned around and smiled at us.

“Sure is quiet out here.” He smiled his charming smile.

“Yeah, it’s a shame.” She sighed.

“And why’s that?”

“You know, kids getting sick. It’s a terrible thing.”

“How many?” I inched forward, leaning into Dean’s side.

He wrapped an arm around me as the woman spoke.

“Just give or six, but serious. Hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it’s catching.” She nodded her head at me. “I would make sure you keep your daughter safe.”

Sam made a bitch-face, lips curled up. Dean only tightened his hold on me. “Yeah, thank you.”

I sighed and watched as a little blond girl played by herself on the swings.

                                                     ***

“Dude.” Sam growled. “Dude, I am not using this ID.” He slapped it down by his side.

“Why not?” I asked, leaning forward and pulling my bag onto my shoulder.

“It says bikini inspector on it.”

I giggled. “They usually don’t even look that close, Sams. You’ll be alright.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s all about confidence.”

“Alright, be careful. Anything weird, you call us. Keep a weapon on you at all times, don’t let anybody see it.” Dean pecked my cheek.

“Okay. Be safe. Love you guys.” I scratched Jinx behind the ear.

“Love you too, babes. We’ll swing by later to pick you up, alright?”

I nodded as I climbed out of the car and shut the door. “Bye!”

The boys drove off and I turned to face the school with a sigh. This was going to be, by far, one of the longest hunts so far.

                                                     ***

I dropped into a chair at the back of the room with a sigh. I had pushed through chemistry and trig, although I understood nothing. English II was a dim lit room, and I took a nap. Advanced painting was a breeze, although the sleeve of my flannel now had a strip of red paint on it. Spanish was a bore, it came naturally to me, and the same could be said for the current mythology class. 

“Connors? Ms. Connors? Olive Connors?”

I blinked. We had blown through so many fake names since St. Louis I always forgot which one we were using.

“Here.” I didn’t look up from my journal.

“Richmond?”

“Present.”

I looked up, eyes wide. Hunter was on the other end of the room, staring at me. I narrowed my eyes. How’d they get here? There wasn’t anything to lead them here.

Why are you here? I mouthed, glaring.

We found it in our mom’s journal.

I sighed and sunk into my seat, flipping back to the start of my own journal.

This was going to be even worse than I had originally thought.

                                                     ***

“In your mom’s journal? We can’t even find it in our dad’s. And I can’t find it in mine.” I spoke to Hunter through gritted teeth as we elbowed our way through the halls.

“I thought you had, like, the master journal. Haven’t you been putting all of your research together since you were nine?”

“Six. I started training when I was six. What’s your mom’s journal say?” I grabbed onto his arm as a group of freshmen pushed past us.

He wiggled his arm out of my grip and slipped his hand into mine. “Come on, we can’t be talking about this stuff in public.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, you sound like Sam.”

“Well, he’s right. For all we know, one of these kids is doing something.”

I rolled my eyes again, this time throwing my head back for effect. “Fine, come here.” I tugged him into the girls bathroom.

He opened his mouth to protest, and I elbowed him as a girl popped out of one of the stalls. She eyed us as she washed her hands, and then hurried out into the hall. Hunter glared at me.

“Nice, so now we could get suspended.”

I grinned. “No school means we get in on the hunt. Now show me your mom’s journal.”

He shouldered his bag and unzipped it, pulling out a yellow journal with a faded heart on the cover. He flicked it open, smoothing the pages out.

“Shtriga.” He handed it over.

My blood ran cold as I looked at the picture of a rotted handprint. I shivered, and I didn’t know why.

“I think our mom and you dad went after this together.” Hunter pointed at the journal.

I swallowed hard as I looked up at him.

                                                     ***

On the other side of town, Sam and Dean prance around a girl’s room. She’s sick, in the hospital with her entire family. The boys need to find out what they’re up against.

“You got anything over there?” Sam asks Dean.

The eldest Winchester shakes his head, staring at his EMF meter. “Nah, nothing.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Sam sighs, moving to the window.

His eyes widen and he calls out to his older brother. Dean comes as called, confused. Sam lets out a breath as he stares at the windowsill.

“You were right. It’s not pneumonia.”

“It’s rotten. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?”

Dean stares over Sam’s shoulder, eyes widening when he sees the same handprint, rotted into the wood. His blood freezes at the same time as Olive’s, and his stomach drops. He knows this handprint. He’s seen it before.

                                                     ***

Dean, aged eleven, stares at a photo of the same handprint. John comes out of the bedroom, loading his sawn off.

“Alright. You know the drill, Dean. Anybody calls, you don’t pick up. If it’s me, I’ll ring once, then call back. You got that?”

Dean nods. “Mhm. Only answer the phone unless it rings once first.” He butchers it on purpose.

He’s tired of hearing the same thing over and over. He knows what to do to take care of his siblings. Ever since Olive was dropped on their doorstep, Dean’s become a single father of two, fighting tooth and nail to keep his siblings safe. He loves his little brother and sister, but he wishes they could stay with Bobby, like the Richmonds. Everett is four, Sutton is two, and Hunter is the same age as Olive. They can’t take care of themselves, but John believes Dean can take care of his own family.

“Come on, dude, look alive.” John pats Dean’s chest. “This stuff is important.”

“I know, it’s just…” Dean sighs. “We’ve gone over it like a million times and you know I’m not stupid. I can take care of them.”

“I know you’re not stupid. I know you can.” John suppresses a prideful smile. “But it only takes one mistake, you got that?” He continues to pack his bag. “Alright, if I’m not back Sunday night…” John trails off.

“Call Pastor Jim.” Dean repeats the chant imprinted on his brain stem.

“Lock the doors, the windows, close the shades. Most important…”

“Watch out for Sammy and Ollie. I know.”

John and Dean look to the two younger children. Sammy, seven years old, is sprawled out on the couch, watching ThunderCats on the TV. Olive is about half a year old, small and fragile, tucked into a bouncy cradle. She’s wide awake, big brown eyes taking in everything in the room. Sam picks her up and holds her in his arms, eyes still on the TV. Sam loves her too, maybe a bit more than Dean does.

“Alright.” John takes Dean’s attention back. “If something tries to bust in?”

“Shoot first, ask questions later.”

John grabs his shoulders and leans down to be eye-level with him, a smile on his face. “That’s my man.”

                                                     ***

Dean blinks himself back to reality, standing by the window and feeling ill. Sam stares at him, concerned.

“I know why Dad sent us here. He’s faced this thing before, with Irene Richmond. He wants us to finish the job.”

                                                     ***

“Dean!”

“Yeah, Ol. We’re running late, I know, we’re sorry.”

“No, it’s not that. Look, the Richmonds are here. I know what we’re dealing with.”

“A shtriga. I know.”

“Everett and Sutton already found a motel. We can get a room there.”

He sighed on the other end. “Yeah, okay. They picking you up? I mean, I’m assuming you’re with Hunter?”

I giggled, looking up at the boy next to me. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Meet us at the motel? I’ll text Sammy the address.”

Another sigh. “Yeah, fine. See you soon, baby.”

I smiled. “See you, bubba.”

                                                     ***

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as the boys climbed out of the car.

“It’s… kinda like a witch I think.”

“We don’t know much about them. It’s not in Dad’s journal, or mine.” I called from my spot on the Richmond’s car.

“Hey, beanie!” Dean grinned at me before turning back to Sam. “Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about fifteen years ago. You were there. It was a couple of months after Olive was born. You don’t remember?”

I jumped off the car and met my brothers halfway, holding my arm out for a hug.

“No.” Sam shook his head before kissing my head. “I’ve never heard of a shtriga before.”

“I guess he caught wind of the stuff going on now and kicked us the coordinates.” Dean kissed my forehead.

“Dean, do you think this is the same one Dad hunted before?” I asked as he handed Jinx’s leash to me.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam narrowed his eyes.

“Cause it got away.” Dean grumbled.

“Got away?” Sam echoed.

Dean began to lose his patience, and I pulled Jinx up to my chest with a sigh. She let out a whine, and I watched as Dean’s jaw clenched.

“It happens, Sams.” I offered.

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Sam. Maybe Dad didn’t have his wheaties that morning.” Dean snarled.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothing. I was a kid, alright?” Dean snapped back, defensive as he opened the door.

Sam looked at me as Dean rang the bell on the counter. I shrugged. Something about this case was deeply personal for him. I didn’t know why, or what, but I knew it was bothering him.

A ten year old boy came around from a back room, where you could see a younger boy watching TV.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, eyes on Jinx.

“Two queens.” Dean spoke, glancing over his shoulder at Sam.

The boy glanced back at Sam and snickered, mumbling something under his breath.

“What’d you say?” Dean fronted.

“Hey.” I hit his arm.

“Two queens, please. Pet-friendly, too.” I smiled at the boy.

Jinx looked at him with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. The boy smiled back.

“Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, sure! She’s really sweet. Her name’s Jinx.” I put her down on the floor as the boy rounded the counter.

A woman came around from the back room and smiled at us.

“Hi. Checking in?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, a polite smile on his face.

“Michael, do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner.” She spoke to the boy.

“Mom, I’m helping a guest!”

She gave him a look, and he grimaced. “Thanks for letting me pet her.” He got to his feet.

“Of course.”

He turned to his mother and raised his eyebrow at Dean. “Two queens.”

Dean faked a laugh. “Funny kid.”

“Yeah, he thinks so.” She sighed. “Will that be cash or credit?”

“You take MasterCard?” He asked, and she nodded. “Perfect. Here you go.” He handed her his card, staring at the back room.

I stood, lifting Jinx once more. She snuggled into my chest and I leaned against Dean. He kissed the top of my head, but kept staring off.

                                                     ***

Sam, seven years old, places Olive in her high chair. She slams her fat little fists against the table, and Dean shushes her as he pours Sam a glass of milk.

“When’s Dad gonna get back?” Sam asks as he sits down.

Dean grabs a pot from the stove, careful not to burn himself. “Tomorrow.”

“When?” Sam pouts.

Dean sighs as he pours the noodles into a bowl. “I dunno, Sam. He usually comes in late though. Now eat your dinner.” He places the bowl in front of Sam.

“I’m sick of Spaghettios.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted them.”

Olive hits the table again, this time beginning to cry. Dean shushes her again, plucking her out of her chair and holding her to his chest.

“I want Lucky Charms!” Sam whines.

Olive cries louder, and Dean bounces her up and down.

“There’s no more Lucky Charms, Sam.”

“I saw the box!” Sam crosses his arms over his chest.

“Okay, maybe there is but there’s only enough for one bowl and I haven’t had any yet.” Dean sighs, trying to calm a screaming Olive.

Sam gives Dean puppy eyes, and Dean breaks. He grabs Sam’s bowl, ready to dump it in the trash. Olive falls silent, making grabby hands for it. He smiles, putting the bowl down on the table. He grabs the cereal box and puts it down in front of Sam before sitting with Olive in his lap, spoon feeding her.

Sam reaches into the box and pulls out the toy, holding it out to Dean. “D’ya want the prize?”

                                                     ***

“De.” I grabbed Dean’s elbow and shook him.

He blinked, and the woman held his card out to him, “Sir?”

Dean blinked again, taking the card and tucking it back into his wallet. “Thanks.”

I looked up at him with big eyes. He looked down at me with a sad smile and handed me the motel keys. Jinx licked his hand, and he patted her head.

“Come on, let’s go.”

                                                     ***

“Well, you guys were right.” Sam chuckled, sitting at the table with his laptop open. “It wasn’t very easy to find, but you were right. Shtriga is a kind of witch. They’re Albanian, but legends trace them back to Ancient Rome.”

“Yeah. They feed off spiritus vitae.” Sutton nodded, feet kicked up on the table.

“Spiri-what?” Dean echoed.

“Spiritus vitae.” Sam repeated.

“It’s Latin, translates to breath of life. Kinda like your life force or essence.”

“Didn’t the doctor say the kid’s bodies were wearing out?” Dean settled onto his bed.

I yawned and curled up on the couch. Jinx jumped up with me, snuggling between my legs and Hunter’s head.

“It’s a thought.” Sutton shrugged. “You know, she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold.”

“Anyways, shtrigas can feed off anyone, but they prefer-”

“Children.” Everett cut him off.

“Yeah. Probably because they have a stronger life force.” Sutton noted.

“And get this. Shtrigas are ‘invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man’. So what do we do?”

“No, that’s not right.” Dean looked up. “She’s vulnerable when she feeds.”

“What?” I looked at him.

“If you catch her when she’s eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron, uh… buckshots, or rounds, I think.”

“How do you remember that?” Sam tilted his head.

“Dad told me. I remember.”

“Oh.” Sam hummed. “Anything else Dad might’ve mentioned?”

“Nope, that’s it.” Dean shook his head.

Sutton and Everett looked between the boys, and then to me.. Hunter looked up at me, and I looked away.

“What?” Dean barked.

“Nothing.” Everett blinked.

“So, assuming we can kill the bitch while it eats, we still gotta find the thing. It’s not exactly gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they’re not hunting.” Sutton broke the silence.

“What kinda disguise?” I asked.

“Historically, something innocuous.” Sam sighed. “Could be anything, but it’s usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend started.”

“Wait, hang on.” Hunter and I got up at the same time.

“What?”

“Tack it up.” I plucked the map off the coffee table and handed it to Dean. “Check this out. Hunter and I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are all the houses that have been hit so far.” I pointed to all the red circles.

“And what’s dead center?” Hunter pointed to the meddle.

“The hospital.” Sam realized.

“The hospital.” Dean repeated, eyes widening. “I saw a patient there, an old woman.”

“An old person, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, and I tilted my head at him.

“In a hospital?” Sam let out a whistle and shook his head. “Better call the coast guard.”

Everett snorted, and Sutton giggled. I looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. He rolled his eyes.

“Listen, smartasses. She had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

I smiled at Dean as the others looked up at him, wide-eyed and serious. Dean raised an eyebrow, and I rested my head against his arm, and he squeezed my shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

                                                     ***

Hunter clapped a hand over my mouth, and I grabbed Dean’s wrist, yanking him back. Everett hushed Sutton, and Sam pushed us all back to hide behind the corner.

“Good night Dr. Hydecker.”

“See you tomorrow, Betty.”

“Try to get some sleep.”

Sam peeked his head around the corner and nodded, leading the way. Dean looked around, on edge. He took the lead, opening the door. He snuck in, drawing his gun. Everett and Sutton followed him in. Hunter pushed me in, and Sam was the last, closing the door behind us, softly. I padded over to Dean and hooked a finger onto his belt loop. He reached back and squeezed my hand before shuffling closer to the woman. She was in her wheelchair, facing the corner. I pulled at him, and he looked over his shoulder to face me.

Is she asleep? I mouthed at him.

He nodded. I think so.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman yelled, turning to Dean.

I jumped a foot in the air, and Dean instinctively snatched me mid-air, holding me against his hip. The Richmonds aimed their weapons at the woman, and Sam was in front of Dean and I in a split second, arms spread wide and shoulders squared to protect us.

“Who’s there? You trying to steal my stuff?” She groaned to herself. “They’re always stealing around here.”

Hunter turned and flicked the lights on, and I let out a silent breath when I saw the cataracts in her eyes.

“No, ma’am!” Sam sputtered. “Uh, we’re maintenance. We’re sorry, we thought you were sleeping.”

“Ah, nonsense.” The woman snorted. “I was sleeping with my peepers open.” She laughed before pointing to the inverted cross on the wall. “And fix that crucifix, would ya? I’ve asked four damn times already!”

Dean and I only stared, clinging to each other. Sam spun the cross around so that it was the right way as Dean tried to put me down. My legs were hooked around him, and they would not go down. I tightened my arm around his neck, and he sighed as we turned to leave the room.

                                                     ***

“I was sleeping with my peepers open?” Sam let out a cackle, and Dean frowned at him.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear! It’s not funny!” Dean hissed back.

“Oh man, you should’ve seen your faces!” Sam snickered.

“It was horrifying, Sams!” I snapped back.

“Your legs wouldn’t work!” Sam laughed harder, beginning to wheeze.

“Oh, shove it.” I snarled as we entered the lobby.

“Alright, alright, laugh it off. Now we’re back to square one.” Dean sighed as he fished out the motel keys.

“Alright, I’m gonna hit the hay.” Everett saluted us before going straight for their room.

“See ya later.” Sutton waved, following her sister.

Hunter sighed, leaning down to kiss my cheek before following his sisters across the parking lot.

“Hang on.” Dean shoved the keys into my hand and turned to the boy from earlier, who was sitting on the curb. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My brother’s sick.”

“The little guy?” Dean asked, face softening.

I sighed. Poor kid.

“Pneumonia. He’s in the hospital. It’s my fault.”

“Aw, come on.” Dean shook his head. “How is it your fault?”

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window was latched.” He pouted.

Dean looked back at us, a sad look on his face. Sam and I looked back, identical frowns on our faces.

“Listen to me.” He turned back to Michael. “I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?”

“It’s my job to look after him.”

Dean’s shoulders dropped, and I sighed again.

You see yourself in him.

My chest clenched, and Sam grabbed me by the shoulders. The mom came hurrying out of the lobby.

“Michael, I want you to turn on the no vacancy sign while I’m gone. I’ve got Denis covering room service so don’t bother with any of the rooms.”

“I’m going with you.” Michael stood.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I’ve gotta see Asher.” He begged.

“Hey, Michael.” Dean caught his attention. “Hey, I know how you feel, I’m a big brother too, but you gotta go easy on your Mom right now, okay?”

She dropped her handbag in her haste and cursed under her breath. I bolted out from under Sam’s arm and grabbed it.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” She wiped her hair out of her face.

“Listen, you’re in no condition to drive. Why don’t you let me give you a lift to the hospital?” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn’t possibly-”

“No, it’s really no trouble. Let him drive you.” I cut in, and Dean held his hand out for the keys.

“Thank you so much.” She smiled, then turned to Michael. “Be good.”

Dean turned to help her slide into the passenger seat and then turned back to us. He cupped my cheek before looking up at Sam.

“We’re gonna gank this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

                                                     ***

Hunter let out a snore from his spot on the couch. I was next to him, half asleep. Sutton and Sam were researching, and Everett was calling around to see who knew what. My phone buzzed under my thigh, and I untangled myself from Hunter, making my way to Sam and Sutton.

“Hey.” Dean whispered on the other end.

“Hey, bubba. How’s the kid?”

“He’s not good. Where are you guys?”

“We’re at the library. We’re trying to find out as much as we can about the shtriga.”

“Whatcha got so far?”

“Well, bad news. We started with Fort Douglas, the hunt you said Dad was on.” I whacked Sam’s arm to get his attention.

“And?”

“Um, same deal. I think Sammy said that before that there was Odgensville? Before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every fifteen to twenty years it hits a new town.” I sighed. “This thing is just getting started. In all these other places, dozens of kids before it moves on. The kids just stay in comas and then die.” I shuddered.

“How far back does this thing go?”

“Uh, Sammy, how far back?” I whispered, leaning over his shoulder.

“Earliest mention we could find was called Black River Falls, back in the 1890s.”

“Holy shit.” I hissed, staring at the microfiche screen.

“Ollie?”

“Hold on, De. We’re looking at a picture of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid’s bed. Sam, that’s Hydecker, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded slowly.

“Okay, and?”

“And the picture is from 1893.”

“Are you guys sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

Dean hung up without a warning, and I sighed.

“We can’t leave him in that hospital alone, he’ll lose his cool.” I whispered.

Sam shook his head. “We can’t do anything.”

I growled under my breath and padded back to Hunter. He was awake now, rubbing at his eyes. I dropped back next to him with a sigh, and he yawned.

“What happened?”

“It’s the fucking doctor.” I hissed.

He huffed. “He’ll go after the older brother now.”

I nodded. “We have to stop this. Tonight.”

                                                     ***

“We should’ve thought of this before.” Sam sighed. “A doctor is a perfect disguise. You’re trusted, you can control the whole thing.”

Dean wrestled with his jacket, angry. I yanked him by the wrist and helped him take the jacket off before he continued to pace, agitated. I folded the jacket in two and held it in my lap as I sat down on the bed with a sigh. Jinx settled at my feet with a whine. She could tell he was anxious.

“That son of a fucking bitch.” He snarled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t draw on him right there.” Everett snorted.

“Yeah well, first of all, I’m not gonna open fire in a fucking pediatrics ward.”

“Good call.” Sutton noted.

“Second, wouldn’t have done any good, because the cunt’s bullet proof unless he’s chowing down on something. And third, I wasn’t packing, which is probably a really good thing cause I would’ve burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

“You’re getting wise in your old age, Dean.” Sam teased.

Dean said nothing, and I stood, padding toward him softly.

“We know how to get it.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Shtrigas work through siblings, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“If last night it went after Asher…”

“It’ll go after Michael tonight.” Hunter finished.

“We gotta get him outta here.” Sam’s eyes widened.

“No, no. That could blow the whole deal.” Dean shook his head.

“What?” Sutton’s eyes bulged out of her head.

“You wanna use the kids as bait? Are you nuts?” Sam scowled.

“No! Forget it.” Everett shook her head.

“Out of the question.” Sutton made a face of disgust.

“It’s not out of the question, guys. It’s the only way! If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.” Dean protested.

“Michael’s a kid. And we are not gonna dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook.”

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean hissed.

“Send you here? He didn’t send you here! He sent us here!” Sam snapped.

“Hey!” I called, trying to get them to stop.

Jinx howled, sensing the obvious tension.

“This isn’t about you, Sam! I’m the one who screwed up, alright? It’s my fault! There’s no telling how many kids have died because of me!” Dean shouted.

“What?” Everett tilted her head.

“Dean, how is this your fault?” Sutton spoke softly.

“Dean…” Sam trailed off. “You’ve been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to us, man. Tell us what’s going on.”

“Dean.” I whispered. “Please.”

“Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. It was our third night in this crap room, and I was climbing the walls. Man, I needed some fucking air. I was only eleven. Olive wasn’t even a year old, and she was teething.” Dean breathed heavily.

I rubbed his back as he stopped pacing and dropped onto the bed. “It’s okay. Just tell us.”

                                                     ***

Dean is eleven. He’s watching TV in the motel room. He’s losing it. It’s the third day that he’s been cooped up in the tiny space. He turns the TV off and peeks into the bedroom. Sam is asleep, laying on his stomach with one hand reaching into Olive’s crib. She’s sleeping on her back, covered in blankets, tiny fist wrapped around one of Sam’s small fingers. Dean smiles before leaving, locking the door behind him.

He goes to the arcade. It’s in the same motel. He’s only a few rooms away. They’re both sound asleep, and Olive sleeps for hours at a time. He’ll only be out for a little while. What’s the harm?

He plays until the owner tells him they’re closing for the night.

Dean, now calm, returns to their motel room. He sees an eerie light coming from the bedroom. He hears Olive whine, and then she screams, bursting into tears. Dean’s blood freezes, horrified. He pushes the door open, seeing the shtriga leaning over Sam, breathing his life in. Dean reaches for the rifle by the door. The shtriga hears him cock it and rears up, hissing at him.

Dean hesitates, terrified. John breaks down the front door, handgun raised. He shouts an order at Dean, who ducks and rolls. Olive screams louder as John shoots the shtriga. It jumps over Sam and through the window. Olive cries so hard that she begins to choke, and Dean is made in action, rushing to his feet and lifting her out of the crib, patting her back.

Her crying dies down as John cradles Sam close.

“Sammy? Sammy, Sammy. You okay?”

Sam blinks as he wakes up, confused. “Yeah Dad. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” John repeats, holding Sam close.

Olive coos as John turns to glare at Dean. “What happened?”

Dean hesitates, again scared. “I… I just went out.”

“What!” John roars, and Sam pulls away, confused.

Olive begins to cry again. John plucks her from Dean’s arms, and she lets out an ear-piercing wail. She reaches for Sam, who takes her from their angry father.

“Just for a second. Dad, I’m so sorry.” Dean whimpers.

“I told you not to leave this room! I told you not to let him out of your sight!”

                                                     ***

My heart ached as Dean blinked away tears. I reached for his hand and he took it without a word, sniffling. Jinx jumped onto the bed and let out a whine, curling up by his side.

“Dad just… grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim’s, three hours away. Irene went after it, but by the time Dad got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga disappeared. It was just gone, and it never surfaced until now. You know, Dad never spoke about it again, and I didn’t ask. But he… he looked at me different, you know.” He sniffed. “Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn’t listen. I could’ve gotten you both killed.”

“You were a kid.” Sam and I spoke at the same time, voices soft.

“Don’t.” Dean shook his head. “Don’t. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

“But using Michael… I dunno, Dean. I mean, can’t I just hide under the covers? Ya know, we can be the bait?” Sutton asked.

“No, it won’t work.” Dean shook his head. “It’s gotta get close enough to feed, it’ll see us. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. But it’s gotta be the kid.”

                                                     ***

“Well, that went shitty.” Dean scowled as he laid back on the bed. “Now what?”

“Well what did you expect?” Everett sighed. “You can’t ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid.”

There was a knock on the door, and Hunter stood to open it. Michael stood there, looking horrified. Jinx barked.

“Michael?”

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?” He asked.

“Honestly?” Dean sighed. “We don’t know.”

“You said you were a big brother.”

Dean nodded, glancing back at me and Sam. “Yeah.”

“You take care of your little brother and sister? You’d do anything for them?”

Dean nodded again, without skipping a beat. “Yeah, I would.”

Michael sighed. “Me too. I’ll help.”

                                                     ***

“Alright, got it?” Sutton asked Sam as she stuck her head in one room and then the other.

“Almost.” Sam called back.

“This camera has night vision on it, so we’ll be able to see clear as day.” Dean spoke to Michael, voice soft and tone gentle.

My heart melted. I loved Dean with all my heart.

“Are we good?” He looked at Sutton.

“A hair to the right.” She repeated Sam’s instructions.

I tapped the camera a bit, and Sutton put a hand up for me to stop. Hunter checked his handgun before tucking it into his pocket. I leaned against the wall as I did the same, watching Dean.

“What do I have to do?” Michael asked him.

Dean sat on his bed. “Just stay under the covers.”

“And what if it shows up?”

Dean glanced up at us, and Michael did the same. Hunter winked at him and I sent him a smile.

“Hunter and Olive will be in your closet. The rest of us will be right in the next room. We’re gonna come in with guns. So, as soon as we do, you roll off the bed and crawl under it.”

“What if you shoot me?” Michael asked.

“We don’t shoot you.” Dean smiled softly. “We’re good shots. We’re not going to fire until you’re clear, okay?”

Michael nodded, hesitantly.

“Have you ever heard a gunshot before?”

“Like in the movies?”

Dean chuckled. “It’s gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, and do not come out until we say so. You understand?”

Michael nodded again, paling by the second.

“Michael, you sure you wanna do this?”

He said nothing, and Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay. Nobody will be upset with you.”

“No, I’m okay.” He sat up tall. “Just don’t shoot me.”

“We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise.” Dean whispered to him.

                                                     ***

I rubbed my eyes as we sat on the floor of the closet, heads against the door. I watched through the wooden slits as a shadow moved outside the window. Hunter stood, pulling me up with him. The window slid open, and I clutched my gun tighter. I closed my eyes, knowing the others were preparing themselves to run in here.

The shtriga stood over Michael, and opened its mouth. Michael was horrified, but his eyes were shut tightly. The light of his energy began to light up the room, and Dean and the others burst down the door.

“Hey!” Sam shouted.

“Michael, down!” Dean ordered.

I kicked the door open as Michael rolled off and under the bed. Each of us took multiple shots, firing at the shtriga until it fell to the floor.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean called.

“Yeah.” His voice was meek, but he was okay.

“Just sit tight.” Dean ordered as he took a step toward the shtriga.

It was limp on the ground, and Dean let out a small sigh as he glanced back at Sam. It jumped up, and a growl left my mouth as I went at it, tossing my gun aside. It grabbed me by the throat and pushed me into Dean, slamming us both into the wall. I spit blood as it slammed the Richmonds to the ground.

“Ol! Dean!” Sam called as the shtriga forced him against the wall, drawing his energy out.

Danger. Sam. Dying. Sam. Sam!

Sam began to go grey. I let out another noise as Sutton stumbled for her gun. The shtriga looked up. Sutton shot it in the head, and Sam went limp, gasping for breath.

“Sams!” I ran to him, speaking through pointed teeth.

“You okay, little brother?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded, holding two shaky thumbs up. I helped him to his feet. Dean and the Richmonds met us a foot away from the shtriga. We stared as the energy began to spill from its mouth. I took Dean’s gun from his hand and shot it. Dean took the gun back and shot it twice more. It fell in on itself as the rest of the energy escaped.

Michael peeked his head out, and Dean nodded.

“It’s okay, Michael. You can come on out.”

More blood fell from my mouth, and I spit it onto my flannel so it wouldn’t end up on the carpet. Michael shuffled to stand next to Everett, smiling tentatively. Dean pulled an arm around me and the other around Sam, winking at Michael.

I glanced at Hunter, and he nodded.

We got it.

                                                     ***

“So, we’ll see you around?” I looked up at Hunter.

He nodded. “Probably.” He bent down and scratched Jinx’s ears. “Bye, sweet baby.”

“Hunt, come on, I wanna get going.” Everett called as she climbed into their car.

I nodded in her direction. “You should go.”

He sighed. “You know, you’re lucky to have Dean.”

I glanced over my shoulder at said boy and smiled. “Yeah.” I turned back to Hunter. “I really am.”

He chuckled. “Catch ya later, Ol.”

I popped to my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Bye, Hunt.”

He winked as he climbed into the backseat. Everett started to move before he could even shut the door. I giggled, waving as they drove off.

“Hey, Joanna.” Dean greeted Michael’s mom with a grin. “How’s Asher doing?”

“Have you seen Michael?” She asked.

“Mom! Mom!” Michael came running from inside the building, hugging his mother.

“Hey, sweetie!”

“How’s Ash?” He asked with large, hopeful eyes.

“Good news.” She smiled. “Your brother’s gonna be just fine.”

“Really?” Michael gasped.

“Yes, really.” She smiled. “No one can explain it. It’s a miracle. They’re gonna keep him overnight for observation and then he’s coming home.”

“That’s great!” Dean grinned.

“How are the other kids?”

“Good! Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward’s going to be a ghost town.”

“Dr. Travis?” I asked. “What about Dr. Hydecker?”

“Oh, he wasn’t in today. Must’ve been sick or something.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Must’ve.”

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked Michael.

“Nah.” He glanced at Dean. “Same old stuff.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “You can go see Ash.”

“Now?” His head popped up, excited.

He glanced at Dean again, and Dean nodded slightly.

“Only if you want to.” Joanna smiled at him.

Michael waved goodbye to us before running out to the car.

Joanna laughed. “I, uh, I’d better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Sam waved as she hurried to the car.

Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we turned back to the car.

“Ya know, it’s too bad.” Sam sighed.

“Oh, they’ll be fine.” Dean shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant Michael. He’ll always know there are things out there in the dark… he’ll never be the same, you know?” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish that…”

“What?” I looked up at him.

“I wish I could have that kind of innocence.”

We turned to lean on the car, watching as Joanna and Michael drove off. I leaned into Dean’s side, and Jinx whined, scratching at our feet.

“If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Previous Ep: Hell House (1.17)

Next Ep: Provenance (1.19)

[bamby0304]

Her Saviours- Ch.19

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Fluff.

Bamby

Dean’s arm was around your waist as the two of you snuggled on your shared bed. Sam was sitting at the dining table of the night’s motel of choice. On the phone to one of John’s oldest hunter friends, Sam was determined to get to the bottom of where his father was.

“No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions....maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything.” There was a pause before Sam added a ‘thanks’ and then hung up.

Looking over your shoulder at him, Dean asked, “Caleb hasn't heard from him?”

“Nope,” Sam sighed, rising from his seat. “And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?”

“No, same as last time I looked.” Dean shook his head, settling back down into his pillow and pulling you close again. “Nothing I can make out. I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s,” Sam suggest.

You scoffed, pulling away from Dean to sit up and turn to Sam. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I want to find my dad. I’m desperate enough to do anything to find him,” he countered.

Shaking your head, you pushed up to your feet and stepped towards him, a little challenging. “And what? You think Dean doesn’t want to find him? You think I don’t want to find him?”

“I’m not saying you don’t want to find him, but you and Dean… you’ve always followed his orders. You’ve always gone where he told you to, and done what he’s said to. Hell, you two went off on a case because of him, and now look at where we are.”

“So you’re blaming us?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“No I’m blaming his overbearing Alpha attitude,” Sam countered, surprising you. “No one ever questions him, so he doesn’t feel challenged or threatened, so he thinks he can get away with anything and it’s stupid shit like that that’s gonna get him hurt.”

“You did.”

He frowned down at you, confused. “Huh?”

“You challenged him every chance you got,” you noted, stepping closer to him subconsciously.

Raising one shoulder in a shrug, he reached up to fix the collar of your flannel top. “Someone had to. Just because he’s Pack Alpha doesn’t mean he’s right. Doesn’t mean he should be Pack Alpha.”

The way Sam said it… you weren’t sure he was even aware of the way his scent intensified ever so slightly. You were though. You could feel it pulse around you, and fill your senses. Suddenly you felt a little light headed and warm.

Noticing the way you swayed on the spot a little, Sam’s hand shot out to grab your waist and hold you in place. “You okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

Biting your lip, you hummed a ‘yes’ as you nodded.

Dean cleared his throat from where he was leaning up on his elbow in bed. “You two done?” Once you’d pulled away from Sam and crawled back onto your spot next to Dean, he turned to his brother. “We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail.”

“I don't care anymore.” Sam shrugged just as Dean’s phone chimed. “After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing.”

“I know!” Dean exclaimed as he reached over to the bedside table behind him to check his phone.

“You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

Sam’s words made your blood run cold.

“Don't say that!” Dean warned. “He's not dead! He's- he's…”

“He's what?” Sam pressed. “He's hiding? He's busy?”

Instead of answering Sam, Dean finally checked his phone. He mumbled after a pause, “Huh. I don't believe it.”

“What?” Sam asked, taking a seat on his own bed.

“It's, uh… it's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean turned and showed the two of you his phone.

Sure enough, someone had sent him coordinates.

42, -89

There was only one person who wasn’t in the room who sent those kinds of messages to the Winchesters… John.

Dean jumped out of bed in an instant and hurried over to the dining table where Sam’s laptop sat. You and Sam were still in shock, watching as Dean got to work right away.

When Sam’s brain eventually did catch up, he stood and headed over to his brother. “You think Dad was texting us?”

“He's given us coordinates before,” Dean noted.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean,” Sam countered.

He was very wrong about that, though. John wasn’t great when it came to tech before Sam went to college, but after? When John saw how the loss of his son was dragging you down, he got you to show him how to do things. It was a way to distract you, but also a way so he could check up on you. Make sure you knew that even when he wasn’t around, he was still there for you.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t shown the same reassurance this time around...

“Sam, it's good news!” Dean insisted. “It means he's okay, or alive at least.”

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?”

“Nah, it said 'unknown'.”

“Well, where do the coordinates point?”

“That's the interesting part.” Dean read from the computer screen. “Rockford, Illinois.”

“Ok, and that's interesting how?”

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He turned the computer so Sam could see it as he explained the case he’d found. “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?”

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal,” Dean noted.

Taking that as a cue, you got out of bed, headed over to Dean’s duffle and pulled out John’s journal. Flicking through the pages, you quickly found what you were looking for. “Seven unconfirmed sightings, and two deaths.”

“Until last week at least,” Dean added. “I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam just snorted, pulling back from the table and shaking his head. “This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job.”

“Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?” You weren’t sure if Dean actually believed his own words, but you wanted to hope he was right.

“Maybe he's not?” Clearly Sam wasn’t as confident. “I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.”

“Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!”

“This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?”

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.”

Knowing Dean had the last say, Sam just glared at him as Dean rose from his seat and headed towards you. You stood there, feeling a little uncomfortable and conflicted as Dean wound his arms around your waist from behind and turned the two of you until you were facing his brother.

“He’s Pack Alpha. Doesn’t matter if you want him to be or not. Doesn’t matter if you think he shouldn’t be anymore. Dad’s the boss, we do as he says and that’s final.” Leaning forward, Dean rested his chin on your shoulder. “Now, pack up your crap.”

“We’re going now?” you asked, turning your head so you could look at him.

“He sent the message now, so we’re going now.” Dean gave your cheek a kiss. “Don’t worry, you can sleep while I drive,” he promised before letting go of you and turning away to head into the bathroom.

As soon as the door was closed, leaving you and Sam alone, the two of you looked to each other.

“You can’t agree with all of this.”

“All of what?”

He scoffed and stepped towards you. “Dad has control over your life, and now Dean does, too. You must hate having to do what they say.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I don’t belong to anyone. You see a mark on my neck?” Pulling your collar back, you tilted your head to give him a better view. “I’m a free woman, Sam. I can do what I want.”

“If that’s the case…” he shrugged, “why don’t you join us on this case?”

It was a challenge. He knew you’d always wanted to do more than just sit around and do research. More than just sit around and wait for the Alphas to return. Now, however, things were a little different.

“After the shapeshifter-”

“That was months ago,” he countered, cutting you off. “And you’ve come a long way. You’re strong, Y/N. You’re better than the woman people think you are. You’re not weak or timid or shy. I know you, even after all this time. I know you. You hate not having full control over your own fate, you just won’t say anything because you feel like you owe Dad, Dean and me some kind of debt.”

Swallowing the thick nothingness in your throat, you averted your gaze.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You deserve better than waiting around for my dad to give you permission.”

Eyes darting back up, you glared at him. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Was he suggesting you deserved more than hotel rooms, microwave meals, and bad day-time TV? Or was he suggesting something else?

Before he could answer you, the bathroom door opened as Dean stepped out and spotted the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something?” The tension in Dean’s voice an palpable. There really was no question as to whether he was okay with you getting close to his brother or not… clearly, he was not okay.

“No.” Shaking your head, you decided you didn’t want Sam to answer. Reaching for your bag on the floor, you turned to look over your shoulder and smiled at Dean. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

Without giving Sam a second look, you walked out of the room, hoping he wouldn’t bring the subject up again.

Dean was playing the bad guy in the bar, which meant you and Sam had to pretend not to know him, but still be around and wait for the cue. At first you thought that meant the two of you were just gonna sit at the bar, pick at some peanuts and drink some beers… but Sam had other plans.

“Come on.” Grabbing your hand, smiling widely, he led you over to the jukebox.

Your eyes grew wide and darted around the room. “Sam what are you-”

Cutting you off, he twirled you around before pulling you closer. Hands landing on your hips, he smiled down at you. “Dance with me?”

“You’re insane,” you scoffed, moving to pull away.

As you pulled back he caught your hand again and kept you from going far. “Just stand here and sway with me. Please. Nothing serious. Just… I wanna hold you, Y/N.”

The flutter of butterflies that assaulted your stomach almost had you fainting on the spot.

Moving back to him, you couldn’t help but return his smile with one of your own as his hands landed back on your waist. You couldn’t deny that they felt good there. That it felt good to have him close again.

“Are you doing this to mess with me?” you asked, voice soft, unsure, a little scared of his answer.

Sighing, he slid his hands around to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer. “Don’t think for one second that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be with you, Y/N. I never once ran away from you.”

“No… but you didn’t stay with me, either.”

“I would’ve asked you to come with me if I thought you’d do it. But I know you care about Dad and Dean, and I knew you would have begged me not to go.” He sighed, “I never could say no to you.”

“You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?”

Dean’s voice carried through the bar, drawing yours and Sam’s attention to him as he spoke to a man at one of the tables. It was pretty obvious the guy didn’t want to talk to anyone, but that was kind of the point.

“Yeah.” The guy nodded shortly.

“Huh. I'm uh, Nigel Tufnel, The Chicago Tribune,” Dean introduced himself with the fake name he’d chosen for the case. “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions, about your partner?” he asked as he slid into the seat across from Gunderson.

“Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here.”

Just like you’d all planned, Dean insisted, “That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words.”

“A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?” Gunderson gestured to the chair Dean was now sitting in.

That was Sam’s cue.

Dean was not giving up. “Sorry. But I need to know what happened.”

Walking away from you, Sam stormed across the bar and shove Dean right out of the chair. You could tell by the way Dean’s head snapped in the direction of his brother that the shove had been harder than he’d been expecting.

“Hey buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why dontcha show a little respect!” Sam snapped.

Staring at Sam a moment longer, Dean then fixed up his jacket and walked out of the door.

Once Dean was gone, Gunderson looked to Sam. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Yeah, course I did. That guy's a serious jerk.” Shaking his head, Sam took Dean’s place in the seat across from the cop. “Let me buy you a beer, huh?”

Not waiting around to see what was gonna happen next, you headed for the nearest exit.

In the farthest corner of the parking lot, you found Dean sitting on the hood of Baby, shaking his head with his hands in his pockets. The way he was looking at the ground, it was clear he was unimpressed.

“He did it for the effect,” you assured Dean, heading for the car.

Looking up, he scoffed. “He did it to get back at me.”

“And what does he have to get back at you for?”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Dean gave a short shrug. “Let’s see, there’s the fact Dad’s gone and I’m not looking hard enough for him. I dragged Sam back into the life and now I’m bossing him around like Dad always did. And there’s you.”

“Me?” you asked, stopping in front of him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play pretend,” he answered. “I saw the two of you dancing.”

Gesturing over your shoulder at the bar, you gave a short laugh. “You mean you saw us standing in front of the jukebox together.”

“I know what I saw, Y/N. I’m not an idiot. It’s not just tonight. The two of you… he wants you, and you want him.”

“Of course I want him!” you exclaimed, getting agitated. “Have you forgotten the years I spent with him? I might’ve been with you first, but Sam and me… it was safer for the two of us to be together. We could do the public thing. It wasn’t illegal, it wasn’t weird, and we took full advantage of that. Sam and I actually acted like a fucking couple, not some dirty little secret!”

Dean pushed off the car suddenly. “I never wanted that for you! You think I wanted to treat you like some secret?”

“You still fucking do!”

“Because I can’t have you!” he countered.

By now, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people in the bar could hear the two of you screaming at each other.

“You fucking think I like not being able to show you off to the world? You think I like flirting with every set of boobs, and then crawling back into bed with you like they’re nothing?” His nostrils were flaring as his angered eyes searched yours.

A calm settled over you as he said his last point. “If you hate hooking up with so many women, then stop.”

“Being with them keeps me from making a huge fucking mistake.”

Gasping, you flinched and pulled back. Right away he could see his mistake.

“Y/N-”

“You think marking me would be a mistake? You think… being my Alpha would be a mistake?”

“No.” He quickly shook his head, all traces of anger now erased from his voice. “I think marking you without talking it out with Dad first would be a mistake… ‘cause I don’t want to take you away from him, and I don’t want to take him away from you. When Sammy left I know how much that hurt, and now that Dad is gone I know you’re hurting all over again. But just because he’s not here now doesn’t mean he’s gone forever, and when he is back by your side… I don’t want either of you hating me.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart hurt. He meant every word of it. Dean… he wanted to give you more, but he didn’t want to take from you at the same time.

“No one ever said making me yours would take me from him,” you countered.

“I’m not willing to take that risk.” He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Smiling sadly, you nodded. “No, it’s fine. I get it. I can wait until we find John. Then we’ll all sit down and we’ll figure this out. I get it. It’s okay.”

Despite how much you wanted to believe it… you weren’t sure you could. You weren’t sure the words were enough to keep your heart from breaking even more than it already was.

“Everything okay?”

Spinning on your heels, you watched as Sam approached you and his brother.

Avoiding the question, Dean leaned back on Baby again. “Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy.”

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam shrugged as he stepped up to you, turning away from his brother. “You okay?” he asked, lifting his hand to caress your cheek.

You pulled back and looked away, folding your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.”

Watching you, Sam frowned with concern. “Y/N-”

“What did the cop have to say?” you asked, cutting him off.

Sighing, realising you weren’t going to talk, he got back to the case. “So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.”

“What about at home?”

Turning his attention to Dean, Sam shrugged. “He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.”

“Alright,” Dean pushed off Baby again. “So either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.”

Sam gave a short nod. “Right.”

As the three of you headed for the car doors to get in, Dean asked, “What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?”

“A lot.”

Bamby

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part ten Word count: ±3400 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part ten summary: Zoë and the Winchesters face the aftermath of losing a victim. Especially the huntress takes it hard, and the reason soon surfaces. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     The black Harley Davidson rolls into the parking lot of the Hampton Inn, followed by the Chevrolet Impala. Zoë hasn’t said a word to Sam since she found Taylor at the Dawlson home. Both of them gave a statement to the local police and managed to talk their way out of an interrogation at the department, Zoë continuing her role as agent Sharon Evans. Without missing a beat, Sam improvised and said he was her partner. They kept the cops in the dark, hoping they will not be making their ghost hunt more difficult than it already is.

     Sam also talked to Jeff Dawlson. The poor guy was a mess, but the widower made clear that he was certain that this wasn’t just some ordinary murder. The silence, the windows that didn’t break, the door that didn’t open. He called it a force, something he couldn’t possibly begin to explain. Even for a skeptic down to earth guy like Jeff, this was obviously not from their world. So Sam told him everything about Laura, all that they know. Jeff took it quite well, even thanked them for their attempt to save his wife, but he was devastated, never to be the same.

     Quiet, Zoë gets off her bike, takes her laptop case out of the saddlebag and strolls to the entrance. She’s glad no one stole her Macbook when she left it at the terras, the database as valuable to her as John’s journal is to the boys.      Sam follows her, watching the huntress as she makes her way to room seventeen; not a single remark has left her lips, yet she keeps a straight face. People passing by don’t notice anything about the strong woman, but Sam can only imagine that this is messing with her.

     The huntress slips the key card through the lock and opens the door. As she expected, Dean is obviously present. A KFC bag and several paper wrappings plus an empty bucket that once contained fried chicken are scattered on the bedspread, loud music is blaring on the radio. Dean, who is freshening up in the bathroom, apparently didn’t hear them come in, because he keeps singing along with the song.

“There’s a lot of people sayin' we'd be better off dead. Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them. So I try to forget it, any way I can. Keep on rockin' in the free world!”, he belts out.

     His younger brother halts and raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t laugh or chuckle; his brother’s poor vocal skills would have been amusing if the circumstances were different.      Zoë doesn’t appreciate his singing either and she slams her fist on the bathroom door. “Hey, Neil Young! Shut your piehole, will ya?”      They hear a glass breaking on the bathroom floor and Zoë rolls her eyes while sighing deeply. Wonderful.      “Fuck,” Dean curses softly, then sets up a voice loud enough for Zoë to hear it. “Sorry!”

     Without responding she walks away from the door and turns down the volume of the radio completely, allowing a deadly silence to hover the room. As Sam picks up the paper wrappings, Dean pops his head around the corner.      “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks them both, when he notices his brother by the door.      “I could ask you the same thing,” Sam returns.      “I let him break in,” Zoë says before Dean can answer.      “Didn’t expect you two to be back anytime soon.” He walks out of the bathroom, buttoning his white shirt, since he doesn’t have a change of clothes. “The shower is amazing, by the way. It’s so big and it has this fucking awesome massage setting--”      “Something occurred at the Dawlsons,” Sam interrupts.

     His older brother halts and looks from Sam to Zoë, who sat down on the bed, staring at nothing in particular, her gaze blank.      She can feel his unspoken question and decides to answer. “She’s dead.”      Dean expected something like that when he sensed the mood, but it still comes as a shock. He needs a few seconds to collect his thoughts.      “Dead as in hit-by-a-car-dead or killed-by-a-ghost-dead?” he asks carefully.

     A depressing quietness remains between the hunters. Zoë doesn’t reply; words aren’t necessary. When her eyes meet his, Dean knows enough. The oldest of the brothers breathes out with a sigh and looks away, shaking his head; damn it.      “Did you see Laura?” he wonders.      “We did,” Sam responds on Zoë’s behalf. “We tried to stop her.”      Dean frowns at that. “How did you know Laura was inside the house? So far no one witnessed her actual attack, right?”      “I had a vision,” Sam explains.

     Both Zoë and Dean look up at him, stunned by his statement. Zoë is well aware Sam had one. But what she didn’t know is that Sam told his brother about his ability, which she presumes, as he just blurted it out like that.      Dean however, bites down the mixture of concern and frustration. He tries to ignore the fact his brother shared this information in the presence of the huntress, which they only met a couple of days ago.  Filing it under either carelessness, he addresses the other issue: since when does Sam have these visions when he’s awake? “You fell asleep or something’?”      “No, this was the first time he had one during the day,” Zoë answers before Sam does.

      The comment triggers Dean to snap his head towards her, unpleasantly surprised to learn she’s all up to date with Sam’s powers. Agitated, he glares at his brother.      “You told her?!” he exclaims.      “Yeah, so? We hunt together, so what’s the big deal?” Sam returns defensively.      “You wanna know what the big deal is? If this goes public amongst hunters, some of them might seriously keep an eye on you, Sam!” his brother snaps.      Zoë tries to cool the looming clash. “It’s safe with me, Dean.”      “That’s not the fucking point!” He counters angrily, focusing on the huntress. “He doesn’t realize how dangerous this could be!”      Sam reminds him of his presence. “Don’t talk like I’m not even here, Dean.”

Zoë’s not sure where it’s coming from, but she has the sudden urge to defend Sam. She can relate with the youngest Winchester, she’s going through the same after all. Dean has no idea what these special abilities feel like, how painful and confusing they are, how they wreck their mind. He’s not the one experiencing them. Who the hell does he think he is to tell Sam how to handle this?      “Like you have a clue what’s going on,” she jumps in. “I think hunters are the last ones on earth you should worry about.”      Dean narrows his eyes at her, reading into her words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”      “Haven’t you wondered where this is coming from?” she looks up at him, waiting for an answer. “Because I for one have never encountered a human being with supernatural powers. Have you?”

     Silence. It might not have yet occurred to Dean, though, but Sam and Zoë have thought of it constantly. People, normal, random people, shouldn’t be having visions, period. Zoë is right; It’s not normal, it’s not human.

     Dean however, decides to ignore her notification and points his finger at his younger brother in the way a father would do to his son. “You shut up about this,” he warns. “If you wanna talk about it, talk to me. If you share this with anyone else--”      “Don’t you treat me like you’re Dad!” Sam counters.      Zoë rolls her eyes the moment John is mentioned. She turns to the window with her hands placed firmly on her slender waist.      “I am responsible for you and I am the one who has to drag your ass out of trouble when you have God knows what on your tail because of this freaky stuff. As long as Dad ain’t around, I’m gonna talk to you like that. Suck it up!” Dean returns sternly.      Sam huffs and grinds his teeth. He hates, absolutely hates it when he’s treated like a child. It doesn’t matter if he’s talked down on by Dad or Dean; he can’t stand it. He's twenty-two for Christ's sake!      “No. This is my life, my problem. I’m not gonna listen to you,” Sam sneers, cynically.      Furiously, Dean raises his voice. “Yes, you are!!”      “Would you two SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

     Both brothers seize their argument and look at Zoë, who turned around to face then. Enraged, she glares at them, her penetrating eyes darting from one to the other, disgusted by their behavior.      “How old are you? Fucking ten?!” she asks resentfully. “People are dying and you two are actually arguing over who’s boss and who’s not?!”      Sam gulps; she has a point. This is senseless; because both Dean and Sam know that neither of them are willing to admit their wrong. Even Dean seems to be ashamed, his green eyes breaking away from Zoë’s penetrating stare.      “I’m gonna be honest with you two. If you don’t get along, that’s your problem, but you’re no good to me if you don’t function together,” she continues, gritting her teeth in frustration. “An innocent just died, Goddamnit!”

     They could hear a pin drop in the spacious hotel room. Having enough of the Winchesters’ stupidity, Zoë turns her back on them and saunters to the end of the room. She sits down on the bed, sniffing, then she wipes her nose. 

Sam and Dean exchange a look, both noticing how much this is bothering her. So far the huntress seems to be a lot more careless about cases; she’s more the shoot-to-thrill type. She was willing to leave this case in her rear view mirror after all.      Dean  carefully attempts to find out what’s really going on with the fellow hunter. “What’s wrong, Zo?”

     Instead of answering, she just shakes her head. Avoiding their questioning eyes, Zoë folds her hands together and rests her elbows on her knees. For a long while she doesn’t speak, but then she starts to open up, just a little bit.      “I was supposed to watch her,” she claims. “Yet I was goofing around and bored, while she got slaughtered.”      “This isn’t your fault,” Sam replies immediately, trying to take away the guilt.      “It is.” Her piercing gaze moves to meet his. “I should have known, I should have drawn a conclusion from the first two killings, but I didn’t.”      “Hey, we didn’t see this coming either,” Dean brings to mind.      “It doesn’t matter. Someone lost their life again while I could’ve prevented it,” she states, her voice fragile now.

     Sam furrows his brow, confused. Again? What does she mean? With a questioning look, he glances over at Dean and is surprised by what he sees. Compassion, compassion for Zoë. He realizes Dean might know more about her past, after all, he and Dad worked her case and casted out the demon that possessed her. Dean wasn't in a sharing mood when his younger brother requested more details about what happened back then. Sam thought he didn't know more and that their dad kept him in the dark, but now he begins to realize that he simply didn't want to elaborate on it. Is it not his place to tell? Or did that hunt go wrong?

     Dean offers some reassuring words, trying to convince her. “Zo, what happened back then was out of your hands.”      “Don’t go there,” she warns.      “You shouldn’t still be blaming yourself for that, nor should you feel guilty about today,” he presses.      “I said: Don’t. Go. There,” Zoë repeats, glaring over her shoulder.      Sam glances from one to the other, disorientated, unable to follow the conversation. The oldest of the Winchester brothers isn’t spooked by the threat, however.      “Maybe you should step away from the case,” he suggests.      “What?!” she cries out, perplexed.      “It’s obvious that you’re emotional about this, Zo,” he starts to explain, deliberately getting under her skin.      “Emotional?!” She scoffs, fury in her eyes, pressing her clenched fist in the mattress. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to give a fuck about people dying? My mistake!”      “I’m just saying that maybe you should let us take care of this one,” he explains.

     He might say so, but Dean doesn’t want her to quit. What he does want, is to trigger her. He used the same technique on his brother before and it worked like a charm, it seems like it might just work on the huntress as well. He can sense her blood beginning to boil as she rises to her feet; he really pissed her off this time.      “Are you fucking serious right now?! I don’t quit on cases, I don’t take the easy way out!” she yells, pointing at her chest.      “You were gonna before you allowed us to help you. So tell me why the hell you’re so worked up all of a sudden,” he bounces back.      “No!” Zoë shouts outrageously, her voice hitting a higher tone than she anticipated. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”      “It’s been over four years, Zoë. It’s about damn time you talk about it. This isn’t healthy,” Dean pressures.      “I just can’t, okay?”

     Her voice is suddenly softer now as it breaks, almost begging him to stop. She averts her gaze quickly, but Sam could see her eyes glister. Slowly, he starts to get the idea of what happened back then, remembering the first file in her database, the one consisting of the demon that possessed her.      “Zoë, if this has something to do with that Diligo Vesco demon...” he carefully starts off. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t on you.”      “My hands--” She holds them up in front of her. “- and his blood all over them. Now don’t you tell me it wasn’t me.”

     Confused, Sam cocks his head from Zoë to Dean, who watches the woman with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His stance is still defensive, but his eyes tell a different story, one of empathy.      When the huntress spots the confused expression on Sam’s face and turns to Dean as well. “You didn’t tell him?”      “I didn’t. Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that,” he says.

     With a deep breath, she prepares to say the words that bring her so much pain. Words that remind her of that dreadful day, the moment that everything got screwed to hell. Her heartbeat has sped up throughout the conversation, first by anger, but now that she has to admit out loud what went down four years, four months and five days ago, she feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest. A panic attack is prevented when she breathes in through her nose slowly and lets the air flow from her mouth again, repeating it once more while closing her eyes. Then she looks up at Sam and swallows back the tears. She can’t break, she never has and she won’t now. With a trembling voice, she speaks up.

      “When I was possessed, I killed my dad.”

      Sam’s jaw almost drops to the ground. For a moment he just stares at her, his eyes large, unable to form words. Poor, poor girl. Losing a parent is one thing, but she experienced her father’s murder like she was the one killing. How do you get over that?      And just like that, he sees Zoë in a totally different light. Her attitude makes more sense, her eagerness to hunt, her reluctance to new friendships. She lost one of the most important people in her life, no wonder she shut herself in.

     Both boys watch her struggle, there’s not much they can do to make her feel better. She walks over to the window and rubs her face. The brothers can’t see the tears run down her cheek, but they know she turned away to prevent them from witnessing her sorrow. She can’t show her weakness, not to them, not to anyone.

     Dean notices something about her that he recognizes in himself. The huntress is unable to express how she feels, simply because it hurts too much. It’s easier to stuff it away and sweep it under the rug, hoping that way it doesn’t have to be dealt with, that the pain will slowly fade away over time. But let’s be fair; it doesn’t.

     Zoë sighs deeply and takes heart, turning back to them when the tears have stopped falling.      “We shouldn’t be talking about me, guys. Our ghost is getting more violent by the hour. We need to stop this,” she reminds them.      Sam glances at his brother and their eyes meet. He knows she’s avoiding the subject, but they have to admit there is truth in her words. Laura might be killing someone right now, especially since Sam left the Shire residence unattended. They decide to give it a rest.

     “You’re right, let’s get our head back in the game. I’m gonna get the doctor to talk, I won’t take no for an answer.” He grabs his tie from the chair and folds it around his collar as he looks up at Sam, awaiting a follow up from his younger brother.      “I’ll check on the Shires and keep you guys in the loop,” Sam suggests.      “Sounds good to me. Talk to them too, fire it up a little. Maybe they know more about this. We need more intel to wrap this one up and we need it fast,” Zoë urges, checking her watch and startled to see that it’s almost five o’ clock.      “Take the car. I’ll walk, it’s just a block away,” Dean nods at the car keys on the drawer, while struggling with his tie.      “C’mere,” Zoë beckons him to edge closer and takes Dean’s tie in her hands.      Skillfully, she redoes it, her hands moving swiftly. Dean can’t help to take in her pretty face. Her makeup has run down a little, it emphasizes her frame of mind. Focused on her task at hand, she avoids his unraveling eyes.

     “Should I tell them the truth?” Sam proposes.      “Not yet,” she tightens Dean’s tie and dares to look up at him. “You try to speak with the doctor first. We're sure he actually knows something, but we aren’t certain about the Shire family. We don’t want to spook them.”      “Okay, let’s go then.” Dean picks up his suit jacket and heads for the door.      Sam hesitates in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the young woman. “What are you gonna do?”       “I’m gonna look into Laura, see who she was close to. I can imagine the kid would’ve tried to stay out of that toxic household as much as she could, maybe she stayed over with friends a lot. Could lead to her next victim,” she explains.      “We’ll get her, Zo,” Dean assures.      “Hell, we will. Taylor was the last one killed by Laura Shire,” she states determined.

      Just after she pronounces those words, the door slams and locks. Surprised, Zoë stares at the doorknob, which felt like it was just ripped from her hand. As she slowly turns around, she feels chills running down her spine, the tingling sensation way too familiar. The bathroom light starts to flicker, then the faucet of the sink turns, water splattering on the porcelain. Suddenly the TV flips on, but all broadcasts a disorted image and static noise. She exhales clouds of warm air, her breath condensed, the temperature suddenly changing. It turns ice cold in the room.

      Zoë gulps. “Oh, fuck.”

      Seems like she doesn’t have to search very long to find Laura’s next victim; it’s her. Anxiously, Zoë searches the room for something iron, but then suddenly the image of the ten year old girl appears in the corner. Her blonde hair looks darkened, her pupils hazed over with white. The nightgown she was wearing the night she was killed is stained with blood. Then her eyes sink deep into their sockets, leaving gaping black holes in her small skull, before her form flickers and suddenly stands right before the huntress. Without an iron forged weapon or anything to use in the huntress’ defence, Zoë stares at the poltergeist for a brief second. This is it; she’s fucked. Even though she realizes the boys can’t hear her, she cries out one of their names at the top of her lungs.

  “SAM!!!”              

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